


Watching for Wolves

by Starsea (StarseainExile)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternative Perspective, Coming of Age, Don't copy to another site, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-09 04:58:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 78,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20847902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarseainExile/pseuds/Starsea
Summary: According to Harry, Ginny was "perfectly happy again" after her ordeal. But Harry didn't spend that summer with the Weasleys, and he barely saw Ginny in her second year. Ginny's recovery was a much slower process. But she did begin to recover... thanks in part to the new DADA teacher, Remus Lupin.





	1. PART ONE: Ears

PART ONE: Ears  
\----------------------------------------------------  
“Grandma, what big ears you have!”

“All the better to hear you with, my dear.”  
\----------------------------------------------------

  
_It’s in the book, it’s in the book, he’s in the book-!_

She walked along the corridor, watching her feet take one step after another. The carpet had once been red, but it was now dull and faded to almost raspberry pink. Dust was entrenched between the fibres, and holes appeared now and again, showing the old floorboards beneath. She looked up. The door was there. The door was always there. It was the only thing which was clean. Its wood was dark and shiny, the latch – why a latch, not a handle? – was polished so thoroughly that she could see her reflection in it, drawing closer and closer. There was a number on the door. Was she in a hotel? Was she in the Leaky Cauldron?  
  
This didn’t feel familiar. This didn’t feel safe. She didn’t want to be here. She wanted to go home. But she couldn’t turn around. Her feet just kept on walking, walking towards the door, and there was no sound, no sound at all.  
  
Someone was in there.  
  
Someone wanted to see her.  
  
_Don’t go in._  
  
She reached out for the latch. There was no light under the door, but someone was in there. He wanted to see her.  
  
_Don’t go in, don’t go in, no, don’t-!_  
  
The door opened, swinging inwards into the room, and her heart stopped as she saw what was in there. She opened her mouth, and began to scream, silent, her voice stolen, her will stolen, everything stolen–  
  
She woke up, her mouth open, and sat up, her gaze travelling at light speed around the room. She knew this room. She’d slept here ever since she could remember. Up until last year, she had been sharing it with her elder brother, but now it was hers alone, because she was a big girl.  
  
Big girl.  
  
Ha.  
  
Ginny put her hands over her face. Her throat was sore. She’d obviously been trying to scream but no sound had come. She’d been too scared. As always, she couldn’t remember what had been behind that door. She wasn’t even sure if there really was someone there, or if her mind simply reacted to the fact she’d opened the door, but she knew what the dream was about all right. That was one thing she couldn’t forget.  
  
_It’s in the book, it’s in the book, he’s in the book-!_  
  
Someone knocked on the door and Ginny almost leapt out of the bed, swallowing back a cry of fear.  
  
“Ginny?” whispered an anxious voice. “Ginny, are you okay?”  
  
Ginny remained frozen in her crouch for a moment and then recognition came. She got down and slowly opened the door. Ron stood there, familiar and deeply reassuring: pyjama bottoms showing his ankles as usual, the arms of the top nearer his elbows than his wrists, eyes almost shut, swaying slightly. Ron never woke up quickly.  
  
“Hey,” he said, turning the word into more of a “hi” because he yawned so widely.  
  
“What is it?”  
  
“I heard you cry out.”  
  
“Did I?” Ginny asked, as if this were news to her.  
  
“Yeah… you sounded scared.” Ron looked worried.  
  
Ginny shrugged. “I just woke up. Heard you calling my name. Wondered who it was for a second.”  
  
Ron gave her a shrewd look. He didn’t believe her. Ginny was good at lying now, but Ron could still see through her sometimes, especially when they were talking about… this.  
  
“So you’re okay.”  
  
“Absolutely,” she said, both of them knowing she was lying. “Go back to bed, Ron. I’m fine.”  
  
He nodded. “Right,” he said. One word which somehow expressed all his disbelief and his sadness. Ginny wanted to tell him not to be so sensitive, but this was Ron. He always reacted with his emotions, just as Percy always reacted with his head, and the twins always reacted with humour.  
  
“Go,” she repeated.  
  
Ron nodded, but he still stood there, his mouth twisting. “Ginny…”  
  
Ginny shut the door and wandered back to bed, collapsing onto the mattress. She buried her face in the pillow. The tears which she had kept back so easily after waking up from the dream forced their way down her cheeks. She never cried about her nightmare, but she did cry for Ron. She cried for the way he had immediately jumped awake on hearing her voice so early in the morning. She cried for the way he’d come running to her door to check on her. She cried because of the sadness in his eyes, because Ron hadn’t changed at all. He was still her sweet gangling elder brother, still the same. She cried because she was the one who had changed. She was the one who would never be the same again, and nobody knew how to handle it. Nobody knew what to do.  
  
_I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Ron. I wish I could talk to you. I wish I could tell you the truth. I hate lying to you. But you can’t help me. Nobody can help me. Nobody can make this better._  
  
All the vigilance in the world would not make up for the one time they stopped listening for her, listening to her.  
  
And they all knew it.  
  
Ginny got up, reached under her bed, and took out her old storybook. She’d read the old tales over and over this summer. Their simplicity and stark cruelty soothed something inside her.  
  
_Once upon a time, there was a little girl, so sweet that everyone who saw her loved her. Her grandmother had made her a little red cap, which she wore everywhere she went, and because of this, she was called Little Red Cap…_  
  
Ginny settled down against her pillows and waited for the sun to come up. Gradually, her grip on the book loosened and her eyelids drooped. She was fast asleep when Ron, the twins and Percy all peeped in on her, her head tilting towards her right shoulder. They all glanced at each other, and then Percy jerked his head towards the kitchen. Ginny was so fast asleep that she didn’t hear the rumpus which erupted from there almost immediately as they found out that morning’s news.  
  
When she eventually opened her eyes, the sun was already high into the sky. She estimated it was around ten o’clock, but nobody had come to wake her up. They’d all been very gentle with her this summer, careful and considerate, and sometimes their behaviour made her want to scream, and sometimes it made her want to cry. At that moment, however, she was just grateful they’d allowed her a lie in. She stretched and the book slid off her lap and fell onto the floor with a thump, the pages flipping over until they came to rest on the picture. Little Red Cap stood blinking up at the wolf, who leered down at her, tongue lolling out as he silently moved his lips.  
  
_Where are you going, little girl?_  
  
“Mind your own beeswax,” Ginny muttered, reaching down and slamming the book closed. “That’s what she should have said.” She closed her eyes tightly for a moment – _What’s your name, little girl?_  
  
Ginny. Ginny Weasley. What’s yours?  
  
Tom. Tom Riddle.  
  
“Mind your own beeswax…” she repeated, squeezing her eyes tight. “That’s what you should have said, Ginny.” She put the book on the bed and grabbed her threadbare blue dressing gown, then slid her feet into her slippers. They were falling apart, but they were also old and comfortable. She pattered down the staircase. The house seemed quiet, which meant the twins and Ron were probably doing all the homework they’d left in their trunks. Ginny sighed: August already. This time last year she’d been so excited about Hogwarts and the fact that Harry Potter was staying in the same house as her…  
  
“Morning,” she murmured as she entered the kitchen. Mum was frying some bacon. Ron and Percy were playing a game of chess by the hearth, and the twins were poring over _The Daily Prophet_. They all looked at her.  
  
“Ginny!” Ron said, his eyes widening. “Listen –”  
  
“There’s no need to frighten her –” Percy began.  
  
“Wait until you hear what happened to Harry!” the twins chorused, grinning at her.  
  
Ginny stopped dead in the doorway, the smile wiped off her face. Her legs felt strangely cold and wobbly all of a sudden. “Harry?” she repeated blankly. “What’s happened to Harry?”  
  
“Nothing!” Mum said sharply, taking her arm and making her sit down. “He’s fine, dear, just fine!”  
  
“He blew up his aunt last night,” George announced.  
  
“Apparently it took them _three hours_ to get her down.” Fred grinned.  
  
“And then he ran off!”  
  
“All on his own!”  
  
“Ran off?” Ginny said, panic choking her. “But – Sirius Black-!”  
  
“Harry’s fine!” Ron said quickly, glaring at the twins. “He’s at the Leaky Cauldron. Dad found out.” Then he looked at her and grinned. “It’s all right, he hasn’t been expelled or anything, Ginny, you’ll see him again.”  
  
Ginny deliberately ignored him and sat down at the table, waiting for her breakfast, knowing that her red cheeks probably gave her away.  
  
“Blowing up his aunt is a serious infringement of the rules for Under Age Magic,” muttered Percy, prodding forward one of his knights. The white knight shuffled forward nervously. He was being eyed by his black counterpart on Ron’s team, who slowly and carefully drew his finger across his throat.  
  
_You’re dead._  
  
“I bet she deserved it,” Ron objected. “If she’s anything like the Dursleys, she probably provoked him. Do you want Harry to get expelled?”  
  
“No, of course not,” Percy snapped, watching as Ron’s knight smashed his own down. “And I’m just as glad as anyone that he managed to avoid Sirius Black, but honestly, Fudge should have known that Harry was safe for the moment. All Black knows is that Harry goes to Hogwarts. He has no idea of Harry’s whereabouts when Harry’s not there – we are the only people who know exactly where Harry lives. The rest of our world knows that he lives ‘with Muggles’ and that’s it. Fudge overreacted by having all those Aurors looking for Harry, and then he waved aside a basic and fundamental rule when he discovered the boy was safe.”  
  
“Maybe that’s because last time they threatened him with expulsion simply because a house elf blew up a pudding in his lounge,” Fred remarked. “Fudge probably felt guilty.”  
  
“Plus, it’s Harry Potter,” George added. “Even Fudge probably felt a bit awed in his presence.” He winked at Ginny, who couldn’t help grinning back. It was impossible to stay angry with the twins for long.  
  
“The law isn’t supposed to have favourites,” Percy argued. “It’s supposed to be impartial, objective and, above all, fair.”  
  
“Hate to burst your bubble, Perce, but that hardly ever happens, this is the real world, and Fudge doesn’t exactly have the best record when it comes to impartiality, look at the way he cosies up to Malfoy,” George pointed out, folding his arms.  
  
“But Fudge is always asking Dumbledore for advice too,” Ginny objected as her mother put down a plate of bacon and eggs in front of her. “You make it sound like all he’s impressed by is power.”  
  
Her brothers looked at her. Fred and George raised their eyebrows as if to say “well, obviously”, Ron made a rueful face and Percy sighed.  
  
“Cornelius Fudge is a politician,” Mum replied, sitting down opposite Ginny with the latest copy of _Witch Weekly_. “He needs support and he tries to get it wherever he can.”  
  
“I’d rather have no support at all than have the support of someone like Lucius Malfoy,” Ginny said fiercely, sawing a piece of bacon off from the main rasher.  
  
Mum looked sad for a moment, then reached across and brushed back a lock of Ginny’s hair. “I know you would,” she said. “But not everybody’s as principled as you, Ginny. Especially if they’re involved in politics. A lot of politicians are wolves in sheep’s clothing.”  
  
“Then why does Dad work at the Ministry?” Ginny asked with her mouth full.  
  
“Because if we want the government to change, we have to work with it, not against it,” Percy answered, managing to take one of Ron’s pawns.  
  
Ginny looked down at her plate, thoughts whirling in her head. It was all very confusing, but Harry hadn’t been expelled, and he was alive. That was the important thing.


	2. PART TWO: Eyes

PART TWO: Eyes

\--------------------------------------------------  
“But Grandma, what big eyes you have.”

“All the better to see you with, my dear.”  
\--------------------------------------------------

Diagon Alley was bustling as usual. Ever since she could remember, they had come here the week before school started to buy books and supplies – that is, they bought what they could afford, or what they had to replace. She and Mum had often gazed at some fancy robes and hats in Madam Malkin’s shop, but they had never once gone in and bought anything like that. However, this summer – triggered by some diabolical chemical in her brain – her body had started to change. Along with all the indignities the boys had to bear – shyness, spots and body hair – she, as the only girl, had a special irritation in store for her.  
  
Ginny shifted from foot to foot on the fitting stool and thought for the hundredth time that she didn’t need a baby at twelve, didn’t want a baby at twelve, and wasn’t even sure about kissing a boy, let alone anything beyond that. She refused to think about kissing Harry.  
  
“Stand still, dear,” said Madam Malkin in that soft drone which told you she’d said that to many Hogwarts pupils over many years.  
  
For some reason, Mum was looking tearful. She had a sentimental smile. Ginny’s heart sank. Mum was either going to burst into one of her ‘cute’ stories about Ginny’s childhood or she was going to say something about how her ‘little girl’ was growing up. Ginny couldn’t decide which option was more excruciating. She could feel the material pinning itself around her, moulding itself to her hips, which were still small, her waist, which was still straight, and hanging loose over her chest.  
  
“I don’t know… it seems like yesterday I was in here getting Bill fitted,” Mum sighed. “And now here you are… my little girl…”  
  
Ginny winced and prayed that her robes were almost finished. Madam Malkin nodded. “It’s true, Molly, they do grow up fast… how is Bill, by the way?”  
  
Mum was successfully distracted into tales of her brilliant eldest son, who was working in Egypt at the moment, for Gringotts of course… Ginny breathed a sigh of relief. Madam Malkin must have had to listen to tons of speeches like the one Mum had almost started. Of course, she probably had a soft spot for Bill. A lot of the shop ladies in Diagon Alley asked her mum about him when they visited. And they always asked her how she was doing. Probably because she was the only girl, it wasn’t too difficult to remember her.  
  
The shop bell rang as the door opened again, and two girls walked in, chatting together. The taller girl had loose fair hair tumbling to her shoulders, while her friend had a long dark ponytail. Ginny felt her heart plunge. Here she was, standing on the stool, arms held out like an idiot when she could have been coolly discussing the cut and fit of her robes with Madam Malkin, but the shopkeeper was now completely involved in her conversation with Mum.  
  
The girls looked up and both stopped talking abruptly, their eyes widening. Ginny swallowed.  
  
“Hey Esmé, hey Rowena,” she said, putting a smile on her face.  
  
Rowena tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Hey... Ginny,” she said, as if she had only just remembered the name. Esmé just watched her, bright blue eyes wary and curious at the same time.  
  
“Getting fitted?” Ginny asked desperately. “Buying some accessories?”  
  
“Just checking what’s on offer,” Rowena answered, avoiding Ginny’s eyes. “I haven’t been given much pocket money this year.”  
  
“Oh yeah, I remember, you had a thing for those talking brooches last year!” Ginny agreed, and winced at the eagerness in her voice. You sound so desperate, stop it! What she had said was true, but it was the way she’d said it which counted. It was bad enough that they saw her as a weirdo with no friends without her actually acting like one. _There goes my chance of sitting with them on the train tomorrow. Maybe I’ll be able to slip in with Harry, Ron and Hermione..._  
  
Rowena seemed a bit surprised. “You remember that?”  
  
“We couldn’t sleep for the bloody things,” Esmé muttered, and Ginny felt her lips quiver in a smile, partly for what Esmé had actually said, and partly because Esmé had been daring enough to swear in the presence of two adults, even if it was under her breath. It was obvious why she was in Gryffindor. Maybe the situation wasn’t as hopeless as Ginny had thought –  
  
“Oh hello!”  
  
She could have cried. Why did Mum have to notice them now? Why couldn’t she and Madam Malkin have gone on talking for a bit longer? Now Mum would want to know Rowena and Esmé’s names, and which house they were in, and how they all knew each other.  
  
“Hello… Mrs. Weasley,” Rowena replied. Both she and Esmé were looking wary again, leaning back from Mum.  
  
“Oh, so Ginny’s told you about me,” said Mum in a bright voice. “Then you must be in Gryffindor!”  
  
Both girls nodded. Mum didn’t seem to notice how nervous and uncomfortable they were, which was unusual for her. Instead, she prattled on in that light tone which somehow hurt your ears. “We’re here to get Ginny some new robes, she’s grown so much this summer, but it’s your age, isn’t it, I’m sure you girls have experienced the same thing.”  
  
“Mum!” Ginny said, tortured beyond endurance. “I’m finished!”  
  
Mum turned around. “Oh, yes… so you are, dear.”  
  
Ginny hopped down from the stool, her cheeks flaming red with shame and embarrassment, glaring at Rowena and Esmé, daring them to laugh or say something. They did neither. They just looked embarrassed. Ginny couldn’t blame them.  
  
“I’ll see you two on the train tomorrow, maybe,” she said and brushed past them, almost running out of the shop. The fresh air made the lump in her throat dissolve slightly, but not that much. How could Mum do that? How could she start talking to Rowena and Esmé about what had happened in the middle of Madam Malkin’s? Ginny covered her face for a moment, pressing sweaty palms to her burning cheeks.  
  
_Calm down, calm down, calm down... you are not going to cry in the street._  
  
She took her hands away and looked around, focusing on the little details. The way a small child dragged his feet slightly as his mother walked away from the sweet shop… the huddle of Hogwarts students chatting by Flourish and Blotts, sacks and bags crammed with new textbooks… the ‘Wanted’ posters of Sirius Black, grim black and white reminders of reality in the colourful summer day. You would not have known a psychopathic killer was on the loose otherwise – the shoppers seemed unconcerned, barely glancing at the posters; there were no security measures around the shops. Only Gringotts seemed to be taking Black’s escape seriously – the huge front doors of the bank, usually open on a hot day, were shut tight, and there was a little sign fixed to one of them that read ‘If you have business, please use the knocker and wait. If you don’t, clear off.’  
  
“Ginevra Weasley!”  
  
Mum must be really angry, she was using her full name. It wasn’t that Ginny hated her full name exactly, she’d just found it very difficult to pronounce when she was little, and when she grew older, she started to think that it didn’t suit her. ‘Ginevra’ was stately, more suited to someone who was tall. She was not tall.  
  
Mum appeared in front of her, bristling. “How could you behave like that? You didn’t even say goodbye to Madam Malkin, you just stormed out of there as if you had no manners at all, and they seemed such nice girls, I was so ashamed of you –”  
  
“You were _embarrassing_ me!” Ginny interrupted. “How could you talk about... _that_ to Rowena and Esmé?!”  
  
“But you seemed to get on so well with them!”  
  
“Mum, I share a dormitory with them, that doesn’t mean we’re all chums! They already think I’m a weirdo because of what happened, and now you…” She stopped.  
  
Mum looked stricken. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I just wanted to help. I thought if I was nice to them, then maybe… I’m sorry.”  
  
Ginny fought the urge to close her eyes. “Don’t, Mum, it’s all right, really it’s all right,” she said, looking away. “Come on, we should get back to the Cauldron.” Anything to stop those tears she could see in her mother’s eyes.  
  
The memory of walking into Dumbledore’s office, seeing Mum with tears on her cheeks, and worst of all it was _her fault_ that Mum had been like that, and then Mum had started crying _again_, hugging her, saying they’d thought she was dead... Ginny forced the thoughts away. She wasn’t going to think of that anymore. It was a new year, she had to make up for lost time. She couldn’t afford to focus on the past, not when it still ripped her apart inside.  
  
“Where are the boys?” Mum murmured. “There’s Fred and George... and Percy. He must have rounded them up.” There was a definite note of relief in Mum’s voice. Ginny hid a smile; Mum must have been dreading getting them out of Zonko’s, but as usual, Percy was there to help her. ‘Mum’s Little Helper’, that’s what his nickname used to be, she remembered that dimly. The twins had made fun of the title of course, but Percy had ignored them, just like he ignored them when they made fun of him being Prefect, just like he was ignoring them now he’d been made Head Boy. Of course, it would help if he wasn’t quite so insistent on reminding everyone that he was Head Boy, but try telling that to Percy...  
  
As they walked inside, she could hear Dad’s voice: “Don’t be ridiculous, Ron. Black’s not going to be caught by a thirteen-year-old wizard. It’s the Azkaban guards who’ll get him back, you mark my words.”  
  
_Typical Ron,_ Ginny thought fondly. _Always racing off without a moment’s thought for any... thing..._  
  
It was him.  
  
Ginny felt her stomach curl up and her heart suddenly slam into the middle of her chest, thumping against her ribs. Her cheeks were burning. The way his hair stuck up at the back… the way he stood straight, the way his chin stuck out in that proud defiant way, that Gryffindor way…  
  
Harry Potter.  
  
He’d saved her life.  
  
He’d saved her life because she’d been a stupid little girl. And here he was, smiling at her as if nothing had happened, as if everything was perfectly normal.  
  
“Hey Ginny.”  
  
Ginny tore her gaze away. “Hello...” There were tears in her eyes for some reason, and she blinked them away. He hadn’t noticed her. He hadn’t noticed her at all. She took a deep breath and then abruptly forgot her own sorrows. What was Percy doing? What was he doing shaking Harry’s hand and enquiring after his health? Ginny didn’t know whether to laugh or stare in utter disbelief. At least Harry hadn’t burst out laughing, but here came the twins, always ready to mock Percy’s pomposity.  
  
“That’s enough!” Mum said, moving forward.  
  
Ginny trailed behind her. It was so difficult to know how to react. She didn’t want to hurt Percy’s feelings by laughing at him, but he was being ridiculous, and the twins were funny.  
  
“I said, that’s enough.”  
  
Mum dropped into a chair and stretched her feet out under the table. Ginny never understood why Mum crammed her feet into those awful little shoes whenever they came to Diagon Alley: they crushed her toes and by the end of a day’s shopping she generally needed a foot bath with Fabian Franklin’s Feet Feast. And now she was fussing over Percy again… Ginny turned away, suddenly tired of her family. She just wanted to get to her room, fall on the bed and have a good cry in her pillow. George’s voice suddenly rose above the babble of the pub.  
  
“What do we want to be Prefects for? It’d take all the fun out of life!”  
  
A giggle escaped her before she could think, which made Mum start on the twins about setting a good example, which meant Percy had to stick his oar in... Ginny wanted to scream at the predictability of it all, but fortunately Percy went upstairs at that point. She waited for a moment and then followed him, hurrying into her room and flinging herself on the bed. It was all too much – Rowena and Esmé turning up, Mum behaving like that, Harry ignoring her as usual – how was she going to be able to bear the coming year?  
  
There was a knock on the door. Ginny didn’t reply. She buried her face in the pillow and hoped whoever it was would go away. Then her heart jumped: maybe it was Harry – maybe he’d seen that she was barely holding back tears and he’d come to check on her –  
  
“Ginny?”  
  
Ginny’s heart crashed back down with a thump inside her chest, sliding all the way down into her stomach. It was only Hermione. Hermione Granger, who got to spend every day with Harry. She wasn’t jealous… not exactly. She just wished that Hermione could appreciate her luck. But of course, it would be even worse if Hermione did start appreciating her luck and seeing Harry as more than a little brother.  
  
The knock came again. “Ginny? May I come in?”  
  
Ginny almost huffed. It was her room as well, what was she knocking for?  
  
“Ginny?”  
  
“What?!” Ginny snapped, lifting her head. “If you’re coming in, come in, if not, go away!”  
  
There was a brief silence, and then the door opened and Hermione slipped inside. Ginny watched, noticing how Hermione had to turn sideways now because of her new figure. Lucky her; Ginny glanced down at her own body, which was still as straight as an ironing board, still a little girl’s body, on the outside. The inside, of course, was completely different.  
  
Hermione sat down on the bed and Ginny noticed for the first time that she was carrying something: something that was large and orange and it had a tail. “Oh!” she said, sitting up, bad mood forgotten. “You got a _cat_!”  
  
Hermione smiled. “His name’s Crookshanks, he’s my birthday present from Mum and Dad – they gave me some money to buy what I wanted,” she added, loosening her grip. Crookshanks jumped down onto the floor and looked around, whiskers twitching.  
  
“Hermione, he’s huge!” Ginny said, staring at him. “Do you know what breed he is?”  
  
“The witch in the shop said he was half-Kneazle, but Kneazles are small. Anyway, I like the fact he’s so big,” Hermione cooed, stroking Crookshanks’s back. “There’s more of him to cuddle.”  
  
Ginny loved cats, but even she had to admit that Crookshanks wasn’t exactly what you’d call a handsome specimen. He was big but rather misshapen, with long bandy legs that had given him his name, one tattered ear, and a rather lumpy, misshapen face. He bore the marks of a rough life. Ginny slipped onto the floor and held out her hand: if Crookshanks was half-Kneazle, it was best that she took things slowly. Aside from the fact you could never tell how much was Kneazle and how much was ordinary cat, it seemed like he’d been ill-treated. The ginger tom stretched his neck and sniffed her hand for a while; then an enormous rumbling purr filled the room, and he pressed his head up into Ginny’s hand, rubbing the curve of his spine along her arm.  
  
“Look, he likes you!” Hermione said, beaming.  
  
Ginny blinked back sudden tears. “Yeah…” She gently pulled the cat into a cuddle and began to stroke him, enjoying the feeling of the warm purring lump against her chest. Crookshanks kneaded her thin t-shirt (she noticed that he was careful to avoid pricking her skin) and gazed up at her, his amber eyes smug and certain of his appeal. Ginny grinned down at him. “Yeah, you know you’re charming, don’t you?” she said, tickling him under the chin and watching him stretch out his neck in pleasure.  
  
“Are you okay?”  
  
For a moment, Ginny wondered why Hermione was asking. Then she remembered. “Oh... yeah... sorry I snapped at you. Mum was just...” She wondered how to give an explanation that would satisfy Hermione without giving anything away.  
  
“You don’t have to pretend with me,” Hermione said, getting down onto the floor. “I know it can’t just have been your mum.” She reached out and stroked Crookshanks’s head, a soft smile on her face.  
  
“It’s everything, all right?” Ginny said angrily. “It’s Mum, and it’s going back to school, and it’s… it’s Harry.” She swallowed down a sudden lump, hating the way her voice had weakened on his name.  
  
Hermione kept stroking Crookshanks, but Ginny could feel her eyes on her face. “He does like you, Ginny,” she said quietly.  
  
“He doesn’t even _notice_ me!” Ginny said bitterly. “All I am is just some nuisance that he had to rescue last year because I was stupid enough to trust that diary–!”  
  
“No.”  
  
She looked up, surprised and puzzled by the word. “No?”  
  
Hermione was looking at her calmly. “He doesn’t think of you as a nuisance, Ginny,” she said. “Not at all. Colin Creevey’s a nuisance. Malfoy’s a nuisance. You’re... you’re not a nuisance. You’re his best friend’s little sister. I know that’s not exactly inspiring, but you’re not a nuisance, okay? Harry does like you... just not in the way you want him to.”  
  
“I was such an idiot,” Ginny muttered.  
  
“We’ve all been idiots!” Hermione said earnestly, putting a hand on her arm. “Listen, Ginny... Harry and I were just as fascinated by that diary. We spent a whole evening trying to figure it out... I did all this research about book spells... it wasn’t just you! You were just unlucky enough to write in it. And how were you supposed to know it was _evil_? It’s not like it had snakes on the cover or ‘Slytherin Rules!’ written all over the pages, right?”  
  
Ginny shrugged and then jumped as Crookshanks let out a rather loud meow, his eyes fixed on her face.  
  
“Aww, Crookshanks, have we been ignoring you?” Hermione cooed, picking him up and cuddling him so that the rumbling purrs started again. “We’re sorry, aren’t we, Ginny, we’re sorry…”  
  
The sight of rational, brilliant Hermione fussing over such a cat was irresistible. Ginny giggled. “Love at first sight, was it?” she said with a grin.  
  
Hermione smiled foolishly. “Yeah... Ron doesn’t like him, though,” she added, frowning. “He thinks that Crookshanks is after Scabbers. I mean, he thinks Crookshanks has deliberately _targeted_ him.”  
  
Ginny rolled her eyes. The idiocy of boys was infinite. “Scabbers is a rat, of course Crookshanks is going to be after him,” she said, folding her arms. “He’ll probably go after other rats as well, it’s just Scabbers is the nearest one... although he’s not exactly rich pickings lately.” She frowned suddenly, remembering how worried Ron had been about his pet since they’d returned from Egypt. First Scabbers had lost weight, and recently he’d started to lose his fur as well. Maybe Ron was being paranoid about Crookshanks targeting his rat, but she couldn’t blame him for being worried. Scabbers was one of the few things that belonged to Ron alone.  
  
“Oh, it’s ridiculous,” Hermione huffed, “just because Crookshanks jumped on his head, Ron’s got this grudge against him already...”  
  
Ginny leaned back against the bed and let Hermione complain about her older brother for the next ten minutes. For one thing, it was funny, and a lot of the things Hermione said about Ron were true; and for another, it meant that Hermione didn’t try and talk to her about the diary or Harry. Ginny didn’t really feel like discussing those subjects with anyone; least of all the girl who was Harry’s closest friend after Ron.  
  
There were some barriers you just didn’t cross.  
  
* * *  
  
Ginny enjoyed the luxurious ride to Kings Cross in the Ministry limousines. She wasn’t sharing one with Harry, but maybe that was a good thing, since she’d probably have spent the whole journey with her mouth shut, her cheeks red, and her eyes alternately fixed on him or out the window. Even better was how the drivers found them all trolleys and then touched their caps to Dad. She knew that a lot of people liked Dad, she knew he was popular, but she did wish that he got more respect. So he liked Muggle things, everyone had their little eccentricity, he shouldn’t be held back for it...  
  
“Ready, Ginny?”  
  
The voice brought her out of her reverie, and she looked up into Percy’s kind, bespectacled eyes. He was smiling a little, the pompousness peeled back to expose the real Percy. She smiled back and then glanced around at everyone else.  
  
“Percy... could we run?”  
  
He looked puzzled. “Would it make you feel better?”  
  
She nodded. They each put their hands on the bar of the trolley and began to push it, gathering speed, going faster and faster until the barrier was there before them, blinking out of sight, and they were on Platform 9¾, with the steam of the Hogwarts Express billowing around them, laughter and chatter and the shrieks of owls.  
  
“Ah, there’s Penelope!” said Percy, blushing and smoothing his hair, forgetting Ginny in an instant. He marched towards her with his chest puffed out. Ginny glanced at Harry, met his eye, and then they both turned away, shoulders shaking with laughter. Well, at least Percy was in safe hands, Ginny reflected with a little smirk, and it was only later that she realised she’d been completely natural with Harry for a moment.  
  
After the customary quest for an empty carriage – as usual, it was right at the back of the train – and loading the luggage and the animals (Crookshanks was spitting like a cobra in his basket), it was time for the goodbye kiss. As they hugged, Mum whispered in her ear, “If you need an ear, I’m just an owl away. You’re going to be _fine_, Ginny.”  
  
She pulled away and smiled at her. “Course I am, Mum. No sweat.” Then Hermione and Harry got kissed and hugged: Harry blushed a bit, and Ginny thought with a pang how cute he looked. Then Mum began to hand out the sandwiches – Percy appeared, grabbed his, and disappeared again – beef and pickle for the twins, cheese for Ron and honey for her. She took the package with a smile, and glanced around for Harry, but he’d disappeared, and the smoke from the funnel was getting whiter and whiter, signifying that they were banking up the engine.  
  
“Quickly, get on,” Mum said, chivvying them. The twins immediately went off to look for Lee Jordan, but Ginny stayed with Ron and Hermione, anxiously waiting for Harry to appear.  
  
“Arthur, what are you doing? It’s about to go!” Mum called, and Ginny saw her father talking to Harry behind a pillar. Dad looked pale and serious, the usual light in his eyes gone. Harry looked non-plussed, puzzled. Ginny wondered what they were talking about.  
  
The whistle shrieked in their ears and she jumped slightly. Guards began to slam the doors, one heavy bang after another, and Harry was still on the platform.  
  
_Oh hurry UP!_ Ginny thought, almost dancing on her feet. _Please hurry up, Harry, don’t get left behind!_ She almost called out, but she had no idea what Harry would think if she did, the mere thought was enough to make her go bright red. She could feel the motion of the train under her feet. Hermione was jumping on her feet and Ron was yelling at Harry to get a move on.  
  
“Arthur, quickly!” Mum shouted, and Harry ran towards them. Ron threw open the door and pulled him on, just as the train began to pick up speed. They all leaned out of the door window, waving at Mum and Dad until the train turned a corner and they disappeared.  
  
Ginny turned and smiled at the three of them, but Ron glared at her. “Go away, Ginny.”  
  
Ginny felt like she’d been slapped. “Oh, that’s nice,” she snapped, and stalked off down the carriage. So much for sitting in the same compartment as them, so much for being with Harry for the whole journey, so much for Ron looking after his little sister. No, as soon as Harry Potter and Hermione Granger turned up, she didn’t even get a look in...  
  
Ginny threw open a compartment door at random and flung herself in the corner seat without even looking at who was there. It turned out there were only two other people, fortunately enough: Neville Longbottom, and a girl from her own year. Ginny sort of recognised her, but she didn’t know her name. They were both staring at her. The girl had long mousy hair falling down her back to her waist, and Ginny couldn’t help noticing it was full of split ends, but at least her skin wasn’t covered in freckles. It was lovely and clear, and her eyes were a soft silvery grey. Whereas Neville looked faintly alarmed, the girl looked more interested than anything else. Ginny felt a spark of friendliness towards her.  
  
“Hi, Neville,” she said, smiling at him, and getting a tentative smile in return. “How was your summer?”  
  
“Oh... not bad,” Neville said, making a grab for his toad as Trevor tried to hop under the seat. Ginny’s lips twitched, but she forced herself not to smile. So many people made fun of Neville, but she wasn’t going to be like them.  
  
The girl was still looking at her with the same expression of mild interest. Ginny looked at her. “I’m Ginny Weasley,” she said. “What’s your name?”  
  
“Luna Lovegood.”  
  
“Nice to meet you, Luna,” Ginny said with a smile.  
  
“Most people call me ‘Loony’,” Luna observed.  
  
“Oh.” Ginny was lost for words. Normally, this only happened when she was around Harry Potter, but that statement was just... She took refuge in manners. “Don’t you mind?”  
  
“Not really.” Luna shrugged. “What’s important is that the message gets across, right?”  
  
“Um... right,” Ginny agreed, not quite sure what they were talking about. If anyone had called her ‘loony’, she would have hexed them to next Sunday, but obviously Luna was different.  
  
“Ginny Weasley,” Luna said dreamily. “You got taken into the Chamber, didn’t you?”  
  
Once again, Ginny was lost for words. To have it so baldly stated like that… the plain and simple truth, not all those rumours and questions she’d had to deal with at the end of the year. Neville was staring at Luna as if she was insane, but Ginny wasn’t angry. It felt nice to have someone acknowledge what had happened without any fuss. She nodded.  
  
Luna nodded, almost to herself. “Harry Potter rescued you, didn’t he?” she said, as if they were discussing something which had happened in a book.  
  
Ginny felt her cheeks burn and nodded again. The other girls had asked her if he’d given her ‘the Kiss of Life’, if he’d said anything ‘romantic’, and it had been so embarrassing because the reality hadn’t been anything like that. Harry had been covered in blood and sweat and dirt, holding a sword, his green eyes burning into hers, and she’d wanted to crawl into a corner and die from the shame of what she’d done, the embarrassment of him seeing her like this, and the terror of what would happen when her parents found out...  
  
“It’s okay,” Neville said, breaking in on her thoughts. “It’s over now, Ginny.” He was staring at her anxiously, and Ginny’s heart warmed at his concern.  
  
“Yes,” she said. “I’m here, aren’t I?” She winked at him, making a small smile flutter on his lips.  
  
“Do you like being here?” asked Luna.  
  
Ginny blinked. “I... I don’t know,” she said, rubbing her palms over the skirt she’d put on that morning. “Nobody’s ever asked me that question before... yes!” She looked up, defiant. “I do like being here. I like being alive.”  
  
Luna nodded. “Life’s interesting, isn’t it?” she said. “So many things to find out...”  
  
“Not all of them are good things,” said Neville unexpectedly, frowning and gripping Trevor so tightly that the toad looked as if he was being suffocated.  
  
“No,” Ginny agreed. “But even the bad things... they’re necessary. They _have_ to be necessary,” she added softly.  
  
The conversation ground to a halt, but the silence wasn’t unpleasant. Luna curled up in her corner, reading her magazine. Neville read a book about herbs and their magical properties, and Ginny picked up her book of fairy tales, confident that her companions would not mock her choice of reading material.  
  
The trolley lady came by, asking if they wanted any sweets. Luna bought a whole bag of Everlasting Gobstoppers. Ginny helped Neville find his money sack and he shared some of his Chocolate Frogs with her and Luna in return. Ginny stored the cards away in her robe pocket for Ron. Outside the window, grey sheets of rain blurred the scenery, following them all the way up into Scotland. It was so overcast that they barely saw the sky darkening from grey to black, and blinked in surprise when the lanterns came on, shutting out the night. The wind whistled and occasionally roared outside, but the compartment was warm, even cosy. Ginny leant back, thinking that maybe it hadn’t been such a bad thing to come in here. She wouldn’t have been half so relaxed if she’d spent the journey in Harry’s compartment.  
  
_Oh, why can’t_ _I_ talk_ to him? It should be simple enough. It’s not like he’s done anything to make me feel this way. It’s just those eyes... and that smile... and the way he lifts his chin... I’m hopeless._  
  
There was a sudden change in the rhythm of the carriage. Neville gasped, jerking his head up. “Are we there already?” He jumped to his feet and pulled his robes down from the coat rack, along with some empty gum wrappers.  
  
“We do seem to be slowing down,” Ginny agreed, puzzled.  
  
Luna lowered the magazine and gazed outside. “The station lights aren’t working,” she observed.  
  
“That means we can’t be there,” Ginny said, frowning. She got up and stuck her head out into the corridor. Lots of other people were doing the same thing, and there was a buzz of questions. Percy came hurrying down the corridor and Ginny grabbed at his sleeve.  
  
“What’s going on?” she asked.  
  
“I don’t know,” Percy admitted, obviously embarrassed by his lack of knowledge. “I’m just going to ask the driver. Stay in your compartment, Ginny. Don’t go wandering off.”  
  
“It’s a train, where am I going to go?!” Ginny demanded, but he’d already marched off. She rolled her eyes and pulled her head back in, closing the door and sitting down again. “Even my brother doesn’t know what’s going on, and he’s Head Boy,” she told the others.  
  
“Maybe if we opened the window and lit our wands, we could see,” Luna suggested, already getting up, but as she did so there was a jolt, and the train stopped completely. Neville’s trunk fell off the rack, just missing his feet, and Luna fell back into her seat.  
  
Then the lanterns went out.  
  
Ginny almost screamed and clapped a hand over her mouth, forcing herself to breathe slowly. They were lost in total darkness. All they could hear was the rain and the howl of the wind outside.  
  
“Hang on,” Neville said. “I’ll just go and see what’s happening...”  
  
Ginny opened her mouth, but he’d already opened the door and gone. She gritted her teeth. Neville was nice, but notoriously accident-prone. He was more likely to trip and knock himself out than discover what was going on, and she wasn’t going to sit in the dark and patiently wait for him to come back, she wanted answers now.  
  
“Luna, you stay here,” she said.  
  
“Are you going, too?” Luna asked.  
  
“I have to, I can’t let him go on his own,” Ginny replied. “Besides, my older brother’s only a few doors down, maybe he’ll know what’s going on.” She pushed away the thought that if Percy didn’t what was going on, it was doubtful Ron would.  
  
“See you soon,” Luna said cheerfully. Ginny just grunted in reply. She didn’t see anything funny about the situation, but perhaps Luna hadn’t meant to be funny.  
  
At first, she paused in the corridor and glanced around, but it was hopeless. There was no visibility at all. She could hear distant bangs and crashes as people tried to find their friends. _Right, you know the light spell, don’t you? I think this qualifies as an emergency, so you can use magic._  
  
“Lumos!”  
  
The wand sparked for a brief moment, and then died. Ginny frowned. “Lumos!!” she repeated, her voice stronger with anger. This time, the light lasted for a few seconds, and then vanished again. Ginny tightened her grip, feeling fear creep over her. _I don’t understand... why doesn’t it work? It’s like something’s blocking the light. _She put her wand away._ Fine. We’ll just have to do this in the pitch dark. Fun, fun, fun._  
  
She crept down the corridor, keeping one hand on the windows, which were icy cold to the touch. There was no moon, so her progress was slow. It didn’t take very long, but it seemed like hours to Ginny, mainly because she had no idea what was going on. Most of the time, there was an older brother around to make a joke, but they weren’t here now. She was alone. If she made a mistake...  
  
A door slid open to her right and somebody walked straight into her.  
  
“OW!” she said, putting a hand up to her head.  
  
“Who’s that?” a voice demanded nervously.  
  
“Who’s _that_?” she retorted, gripping her wand.  
  
“Ginny?” The voice brightened, and she blinked, a useless action.  
  
“Hermione?” she whispered.  
  
“What are you doing?” Hermione demanded.  
  
“I was looking for Ron – ” she admitted, glad that nobody could see her blush.  
  
“Come in and sit down,” Hermione invited, and Ginny didn’t need any encouragement. She stepped inside and began to sit down.  
  
“Not here! I’m here!” Harry’s voice suddenly protested, causing goosebumps to streak down her spine.  
  
She swallowed and moved on, treading on someone’s foot. From the yelp of pain, it was obviously Neville. At least he was okay. Then there was a rustle of clothing and a strange voice said, “Quiet!”  
  
There was a crackling sound and pale fire flared in the corner of the compartment. Ginny blinked in the sudden light and then stared at the man who was creating it. His face was lined, tired and pale, but his eyes were younger, fully awake. _The new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, must be._  
  
She sat down next to Hermione in the new light and whispered, “Is he...?”  
  
“Defence Against the Dark Arts,” Hermione confirmed. “His name’s Remus Lupin, according to his case.”  
  
_Remus?_ The wizarding world was fond of Latin names, but Ginny wasn’t familiar with that one. Yet she knew she’d heard it before. It tugged at her memory, something to do with books.  
  
“Stay where you are,” Professor Lupin commanded, and he rose to his feet. Even in that one slow movement, you could see how tired he was. They all watched as he walked to the door, holding the fire in front of him. Just as Ginny was wondering why the flames worked when _Lumos_ didn’t, the door slid open to reveal a tall figure in a black cloak. There was a terrible rattling noise, like someone’s dying breath, and a wave of dread swept over them all.  
  
“Oh no,” Ginny said thinly, crawling back in the seat, her mind frozen in terror. “Oh no, oh no, oh no…”  
  
She clapped her hands over her ears, but nothing could stop it. Nothing could stop him, the face rearing up in front of her eyes, the voice laughing as she felt herself grow cold, cold, cold -  
  
_“Poor Ginny... you really thought you could handle me? You thought you, a skinny red-haired nobody, could handle the great Lord Voldemort? You really are a stupid little girl...”  
  
No... I won’t think of this... make it stop, make it stop..._  
  
That face, that handsome face, all twisted and warped with sadistic delight and greed. Nobody that evil should look so beautiful. How could she have ever believed he was interested in her? She hunched up, shaking. He wanted Harry, he’d always wanted Harry, and now Harry was going to die, and it was all her fault, all of it, it was all her fault…  
  
Far away, she heard a whisper, and suddenly the compartment was full of light. Ginny flung a hand up in front of her eyes, blinded, and saw the Dementor retreating, turning away… The air was suddenly breathable again. She felt herself begin to sob and put her hands over her mouth. She looked around. Ron and Hermione were pale, but they didn’t seem too affected. Neville was biting his nails, and Harry...  
  
Harry was lying on the floor, eyes closed, pale as death. Ginny tried to sit up, but her body was still too cold and stiff to move, and her heart felt too large for her ribs, battering against them. _Harry! Harry, wake up, oh please, wake up!_  
  
Ron and Hermione slipped down onto their knees. Hermione began to slap Harry on the cheek. “Harry! Harry! Are you all right? _Harry!_”  
  
The desperation in her voice seemed to reach Harry where the physical contact could not. He blinked, shuddered, and pushed his glasses back up his nose. Ginny let out a silent breath of relief, realising for the first time that the train had started moving again. The thought of Hogwarts was immensely comforting after what had just happened. Ron and Hermione had pulled Harry back onto his seat, and there was some colour in his cheeks now – the merest flush of pink.  
  
“Who screamed?” he said, looking from one to the other, his eyes too brilliant against the pallor of his skin.  
  
“No one screamed,” Ron said, glancing at Hermione, his worry plain.  
  
Harry looked at Neville, then at Ginny, as if searching for another person. “But I heard screaming,” he said softly.  
  
Ginny hugged herself, feeling cold again. She didn’t want to imagine what Harry might have seen and heard because of that creature. She didn’t want to think at all. A snap made her jump and look around – Professor Lupin was breaking a huge slab of chocolate into pieces. Ginny saw how threadbare and worn his clothes were and wondered how he could afford such a luxury. She also wondered why he had such an enormous bar in the first place. Surely he couldn’t have known this would happen? Perhaps he was just a chocoholic, she told herself. He certainly seemed generous enough, handing out pieces to all of them, not just Harry.  
  
“What was that thing?” Harry asked, voicing everyone’s thoughts.  
  
“A Dementor,” Professor Lupin said quietly. “One of the Dementors of Azkaban.”  
  
Dementor?! Ginny remembered her father coming in through the door, white and drawn, collapsing in a chair; she remembered her mother giving him mug after mug of hot chocolate, questioning him. So _that_ was a Dementor. What was it doing here?! They weren’t criminals! She opened her mouth to ask, but Professor Lupin said something about speaking to the driver and left the compartment.  
  
_Rats,_ Ginny thought. _Maybe Percy will know something. I’ll have to ask him when I next see him._ She glanced at her chocolate, but her throat still felt stuck together and sore. The others were explaining to Harry what had happened and comparing notes. Ginny tried not to listen, she didn’t want to relive it, but she couldn’t move, and the words filtered through.  
  
“Did you feel how cold it was when it came in?” Neville said, shivering.  
  
“I felt weird,” Ron agreed, “like I’d never be cheerful again…”  
  
A sob escaped Ginny’s throat before she could stop it. She didn’t want to break down in front of Harry, not _again_, but Hermione was already there, putting an arm around her. The warmth of her body was so comforting that Ginny found herself leaning into the older girl as if she was a baby.  
  
“But didn’t any of you – fall off your seats?” Harry asked, looking from one to the other. Ginny didn’t dare to meet his eye.  
  
Ron shook his head. “No, Ginny was shaking like mad, though...”  
  
_Oh thanks, Ron, as if I wasn’t enough of a wimp already,_ Ginny thought unhappily, but she was still too shocked to actually make much of a noise. Her voice seemed to have gone on holiday without warning, and she had to clear her throat several times before she could respond to Hermione’s question of whether she was all right.  
  
The compartment door slid back and Professor Lupin came in. He looked at them all and said, smiling strangely, “I haven’t poisoned that chocolate, you know.”  
  
Ginny had almost forgotten about the chocolate. Her fingers were smudged when she passed it to her other hand. Harry was occupied with eating his own piece, so she could lick them without making a fool of herself. The sweet taste seemed to make the world a little brighter; a whole bite spread warmth right throughout her body, and she felt as if her blood was flowing properly again. The cold in her chest melted away.  
  
“We’ll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes,” Professor Lupin announced. He glanced at Harry, who still looked rather peaky. “Are you all right, Harry?”  
  
Harry muttered something and bit into his chocolate again. Ginny tore her eyes away and looked out of the window. Hermione didn’t notice, because she was looking at Harry. Ginny was glad. Harry’s episode had been far worse, you could still tell, even after the chocolate. She continued to worry about him even after they arrived and he disappeared in the normal crush of students.  
  
“Come on,” she said to Neville, “let’s go and find Luna.” She was feeling a bit guilty since they’d just abandoned her. Maybe a Dementor had invaded Luna’s compartment as well? Ginny didn’t want to imagine facing a Dementor on your own.  
  
They didn’t find Luna, they found Draco Malfoy and his cronies instead. Malfoy ignored Ginny, of course, and went straight for Neville, grabbing his sleeve. Crabbe and Goyle blocked the way so that Neville and Ginny couldn’t leave.  
  
“Heard you were in Potter’s compartment, Longbottom,” Malfoy said, his eyes gleaming with greed. “What happened? Did he cry? Did he wet his pants? I bet he ran screaming out of the door –”  
  
“No,” Neville said defensively, jerking his sleeve out of Malfoy’s hand, “he fainted, actually!”  
  
Ginny almost groaned out loud. Malfoy’s eyes widened in malicious pleasure. “He _fainted_? You’re not lying to me, are you, Longbottom? You’d better not lie, this is too good –!”  
  
Ginny chose this moment to punch both Crabbe and Goyle in the stomach. They bent over, startled by this sudden pain, and she grabbed Neville’s arm, pulling him through.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Neville moaned, “it just slipped out, I didn’t mean to –”  
  
“Don’t apologise to me, apologise to Harry,” Ginny said, glancing around. Why did she have to be small? Why couldn’t she be like Ron, or Percy, or, best of all, Bill? Being small put you at a distinct disadvantage in a crowd: you couldn’t see anyone, and your nose was at the level of a normal person’s armpit. Ginny held her breath and pulled Neville towards the coaches.  
  
“Ginny? Are you okay? We heard a Dementor came to your compartment!” Rowena and Esmé came pushing towards her. Behind them was Catharine Watson, the fourth member of their dormitory, her large dark eyes agog at the prospect of some juicy gossip.  
  
“Let’s get a coach,” Ginny said, deciding to ignore that statement. “I want to get out of this crowd.”  
  
“Tell me about it,” Esmé muttered, “why is it that we always get stuck with people who don’t _wash_?”  
  
Ginny and Rowena laughed. Neville smiled uneasily and opened the door for them. Rowena gave him a polite smile as she got in, but Esmé and Catharine barely glanced at him. Ginny waited until Neville got in before making introductions. “Neville, this is Rowena Penhallow, Esmé Crosse and Catharine Watson. This is Neville Longbottom.”  
  
“Pleased to meet you,” Rowena said. Neville blushed and shuffled. Esmé nodded. Catharine looked at him for a moment and then dismissed him, focusing on Ginny once more.  
  
“I heard Harry Potter had a _fit_!” she said, leaning forward, her eyes fixed on Ginny with the same greedy gleam which she’d seen in Malfoy. “What happened, Ginny? Did he... you know... say anything? Did you give him mouth to mouth?”  
  
“No,” Ginny said, picking her words, “he didn’t have a fit. He wasn’t exactly at his best, but nobody’s at their best when a Dementor’s around, are they, Catharine?”  
  
“We met the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher,” Neville said suddenly. As a conversational tactic, it was pure genius, and it wasn’t too bad as a bid for their attention either. All three girls turned and looked at him, their interest rekindled.  
  
“What’s he like?”  
  
“Where does he come from?”  
  
“Is he good looking?”  
  
“Catharine!”  
  
Catharine smirked a little and flicked a lock of hair over her shoulder. “Just trying to find out the important things, girls.”  
  
Esmé rolled her eyes. “I don’t care if he looks like Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe’s lovechild, as long as he actually knows what he’s doing.”  
  
“Eww, Esmé, I really did _not_ need that image!” Catharine wrinkled her nose.  
  
“Let’s not wish that combination of looks on anyone,” Ginny agreed, sharing a grin with Esmé.  
  
“So, what’s he like?” Rowena pressed, leaning forward.  
  
“He’s, um… he definitely knows his stuff,” Neville said, and Ginny nodded along with him. “A Dementor came into our compartment, but he made it go away.”  
  
“Made it go away? I didn’t know you could make a Dementor do anything,” Esmé said slowly. “How did he do that?”  
  
Neville shrugged, and Ginny shook her head when they looked at her. “I don’t know… I don’t remember much. There was this brilliant light, and it was gone.”  
  
“It came from his wand, it must have been a spell,” Neville added.  
  
“Pretty powerful spell!” Rowena exclaimed. “I’ve never heard of anything like it.”  
  
“So he’s not like Lockhart,” Esmé said with satisfaction.  
  
“Definitely not, and you’ll see him at the feast, Catharine, so don’t whine,” Ginny told the other girl, who was pouting.  
  
“Do you think he’ll be fair?” Rowena asked, rather anxious. “Having favourites is so off-putting...” Rowena was not good at Potions, which meant she spent most of the lessons being picked on and sniped at by Snape; Lockhart had acted as if she wasn’t even there.  
  
“He shared out his chocolate with all of us,” Neville told her. “It was really good chocolate, too.”  
  
All three looked cheered by this prospect, and a lively discussion ensued about whether Professor Lupin would hand out chocolate if they did particularly well in his class. Ginny told herself she’d see Harry when they sat down to the feast. But Harry wasn’t there. Ron had two spaces on either side of him, which meant Hermione was missing, too. Ginny caught Ron’s eye and questioned him with her eyebrows. He leaned over, his voice low so that the gossips couldn’t hear.  
  
“McGonagall told Harry and Hermione she wanted to see them. Said it was urgent.”  
  
“What? Why? They haven’t done anything wrong, have they?” Ginny stared at him, bewildered.  
  
Ron shrugged. “I’m sure it’s nothing serious...” he said, his voice dying away just like Dad’s when he wasn’t sure of something.  
  
Ginny sagged back in her seat. Maybe they’d taken Harry to the hospital wing so Madam Pomfrey could make sure he was okay. But if so, why had Hermione gone with him and not Ron? They went everywhere together, they were already famous for it. The Sorting passed her in a blur, and she clapped when everyone else clapped, barely noticing the new first years as they joined the table. Just as the last student joined the Hufflepuff table, Harry and Hermione entered the Hall, hurrying to the Gryffindor table. They had their heads down, avoiding the curious gazes. Ginny saw people point and whisper. She sucked in a breath. She knew what that felt like.  
  
“Are you all right?” Rowena whispered.  
  
Ginny put on a false smile. It was getting easier and easier. “Fine...”  
  
She was spared further interrogation by Professor Dumbledore, who stood up to make his customary speech. All the students stopped talking and looked at him expectantly. You could never be sure what to expect from a Dumbledore speech. That was what made him so much fun. Fred and George respected him, and they didn’t respect many grown ups that Ginny could think of.  
  
“Welcome!” Dumbledore said, his blue eyes kind as he gazed upon them all. “Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast…” His face darkened. “As you will be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the Dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry business… they are stationed at every entrance to the grounds, and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave the school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises – or even Invisibility Cloaks.”  
  
Out of the corner of her eye, Ginny saw Ron and Harry look at each other. She stored that away to think about later. Dumbledore’s voice grew even more serious.  
  
“It is not in the nature of a Dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the Prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the Dementors.”  
  
Ginny wondered how Percy could protect them from the Dementors: bore them so much they decided it wasn’t worth hanging around? Dumbledore was looking around the Hall, making sure that everyone understood him. Ginny didn’t think it was necessary. Everyone on the Express already knew that Dementors were bad for you in every way.  
  
“On a happier note, I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year,” Dumbledore continued, the light returning to his eyes. “Firstly, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.”  
  
Professor Lupin looked thin and shabby compared to the other teachers. Ginny knew what that was like, and she clapped extra hard, along with Neville, Hermione, Ron and Harry. Esmé and Rowena craned their necks to see him. Catharine was already telling everyone in their year what she’d heard. Ron whispered to Harry and pointed. Ginny turned around and suddenly saw what he meant.  
  
Professor Snape was staring at Professor Lupin as if he wanted to kill him.  
  
Ginny whipped round again, staring at the table. Everyone knew Snape wanted the Defence Against the Dark Arts post, he’d wanted it ever since he came to teach, but she’d never seen him look like that before. Dumbledore was speaking again.  
  
“... Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid...”  
  
For a moment there was silence, and everyone at the Gryffindor table stared at each other, then at the teachers’ table. Sure enough, there was Hagrid, his enormous bulk highly visible next to Professor McGonagall’s spare, upright form. Then the applause erupted from every corner of the room, but the Gryffindors did more than applaud. They stamped their feet, they banged their fists upon the table, and the twins wolf whistled. Hagrid went bright red and stared down at his hand, his cheeks stretched wide with a smile. Ginny smiled and turned back to the table, as Dumbledore pronounced those magic words: “Let the feast begin!”  
  
Ginny dug in happily, glancing at Harry every now and then to satisfy her other hunger. The fact she’d been in Harry Potter’s compartment with Professor Lupin had already given her a certain social advantage, so she spent most of the meal dodging various questions and answering others. It was rather pleasant to have people staring at her with curiosity and admiration instead of awe and fear. She basked in the attention. Even when they went up to bed, people were still crowding around her, wanting to know what had happened. By now the rumours were ridiculous: Harry had actually stopped breathing, there had been ten Dementors in the compartment, Professor Lupin had faced them down with a rod of fire, Professor Lupin gave out free chocolate to anyone who asked...  
  
Ginny glimpsed Luna just before they turned down opposite corridors and waved, but Luna didn’t notice. She was off in her own world. Ginny shrugged to herself. They would probably bump into each other again at some point. She should apologise. She didn’t want Luna to feel abandoned.  
  
“Did you see how Snape was looking at Professor Lupin?” she asked the other girls in the dormitory that evening.  
  
“Yeah!” Catharine said, flopping onto her stomach. “If looks could kill, Lupin would have keeled over on the spot!”  
  
“What do you mean?” Rowena asked, trying to decide which flannel pyjama set she should wear. Esmé had already changed and was in bed, stroking the spine of her Monster Book; Catharine hadn’t even bothered to take out any nightclothes. Ginny carefully slipped on her own thick pyjamas – scarlet, unfortunately – and hopped into her four poster, grateful for the hot brick which had been placed there by the house elves.  
  
“Snape was giving Professor Lupin the Evil Eye!” Catharine said, rolling her eyes dramatically. “There’s some ancient grudge between them, I bet you!”  
  
“Don’t be ridiculous, he’s probably just annoyed because he thought that after Lockhart, Dumbledore would beg him to take the post,” Esmé retorted. “I wonder where Professor Lupin was teaching before, they didn’t pay him very well, by the looks of it.”  
  
“Maybe he’s been ill,” Rowena said, picking out a pale blue set. “He did look rather thin. And he’s got grey hair, too.”  
  
“What does _that_ have to do with anything?” Catharine asked, nonplussed.  
  
Rowena looked defensive. “It means he’s stressed!”  
  
“Then he’s hardly come to the right place, has he?” Esmé pointed out. “Teaching at Hogwarts isn’t exactly what I’d call a rest cure, and as for the Defence post… everyone knows it’s jinxed!”  
  
“Then maybe all he needs is feeding up,” Rowena suggested. This could not be disputed so there was silence for a few moments.  
  
“Maybe he’s just a typical man; men don’t care about their clothes,” Catharine said in a wise voice.  
  
Esmé shook her head. “They were good clothes, just very old.”  
  
“It doesn’t matter how he dresses, what’s important is whether he’s actually got anything to teach us,” Ginny said firmly. “And from what I saw on the train, the prospects look good.”  
  
“Yeah, we’ll actually have to _work_ in Defence lessons instead of listening to Lockhart witter on about how fabulous he is, what a shame,” Esmé said with a smirk, and they all laughed.  
  
Later in bed, however, when the lights were out, the look on Snape’s face returned to Ginny’s mind, along with Professor Lupin’s name.  
  
_Remus... Remus... Remus... I know I’ve read it somewhere._  
  
She slid her book out from under the mattress and lit her candle so that she could read herself to sleep.  
  
_One day her mother said to her, "Come, Little Red Cap, take this piece of cake and bottle of wine and bring them to your grandmother. She's sick and weak, and this will strengthen her. Get an early start, before it becomes hot, and when you're out in the woods, be nice and good and don't stray from the path, otherwise you'll fall and break the glass, and your grandmother will get nothing. And when you enter her room, don't forget to say good morning, and don't go peeping in all the corners."  
  
"I'll do just as you say," Little Red Cap promised her mother..._  
  
Don’t stray from the path, don’t go peeping in all the corners, don’t do this, don’t do that. The problem was, Ginny thought, her eyelids slipping down, that sometimes you couldn’t help looking in the corners... sometimes you didn’t know when you strayed from the path...  
  
If it was that simple, life would be much safer, and happier. And so much more boring.


	3. PART THREE: Hands

PART THREE: Hands

\---------------------------------------------------

“But Grandma, what big hands you have.”

“All the better to hold you with, my dear.”

\---------------------------------------------------

In a complete turnaround from last year, everyone was looking forward to Defence Against the Dark Arts. Most of the second years listened to the students in the years above them discuss Professor Lupin’s lessons, but what intrigued Ginny was that he had somehow managed to impress Percy and the twins at the same time, a feat accomplished in her memory by only one other person, their oldest brother Bill. Percy raved about his carefully planned lessons, while Fred and George would only say that Lupin was 'cool', but coming from the twins, that was the ultimate compliment. Obviously, there was more to the new teacher than his shabby exterior.  
  
What with a ready-made network of older brothers and having previous experience of Professor Lupin’s skills on the Express, Ginny was doing better than she’d dared to hope.  
  
It was a pity that social success didn’t cure nightmares.  
  
“Oh my God, I am so excited!” Catharine squealed on the eve of their first lesson with Professor Lupin. "I can't wait to see what we learn!"  
  
This was the first time anyone could remember that Catharine was actually interested in lessons. Esmé gave her a scornful look. "What about that get-well card you sent to Lockhart, hmm? Abandoned him already, have you?”  
  
“No, but he’s there, and Professor Lupin's here,” Catherine sighed, gazing into space with starry eyes.  
  
“He's not that good-looking," Ginny said, rolling her eyes.  
  
Catharine glared at her and then smirked. “Yeah, well, we all know who you like, don’t we?” she said, and broke into song. _“His eyes are as green as a fresh-pickled toad, his hair is as dark as a blackboard-!”_  
  
White-hot anger blazed through Ginny, blocking out everything except Catharine’s taunting face, and she grabbed the nearest thing.  
  
_“I wish he was mine, he’s really divine, the hero who-”_  
  
“SHUT UP!”  
  
The pillow hit Catharine squarely in the face, and she fell back on the bed for a moment, stunned. Ginny grabbed her wand with no thought in her head except making sure Catharine didn’t sing the rest of that song.  
  
_“Erumpo Chiroptera!”_  
  
There was an explosion; a black stream poured out of Ginny’s wand into the air, separating into hundreds of flapping wings, all heading towards Catharine’s face, filling her mouth, covering her whole body. She flailed, trying to push them off, her screams becoming muffled, the slapping of bat wings filling the air.  
  
Ginny couldn’t believe it: she’d never been able to produce a single bat before, even with all her attempts at that hex. Why now? What had changed? She stared at the seething blackness attacking her friends.  
  
_That came out of me... That was inside me..._  
  
Esmé’s face was in front of her, mouthing something, but there was a delay between what Ginny saw and what she heard, so that the sound came flying out of nowhere.  
  
“Stop it, Ginny, stop it!"  
  
Ginny gasped. She lifted her wand and said, the words like cotton in her mouth, _“Finite Incantatem.”_  
  
The bats vanished; the air was clear and silent. Catharine sat up, her face white with shock. Rowena avoided looking at Ginny, rubbing Catharine’s back. Esmé didn’t move.  
  
“How did you do that?” she said in a low voice.  
  
“I... don’t know,” Ginny said, her legs wobbling. “It never worked before... I...” The world swam before her eyes, and the last thing she saw was Rowena flying out of the door before everything disappeared into the dark.  
  
_This darkness... inside of me... I can’t get out. It’s still here, he’s still here, waiting, just waiting to gobble me up. I’m not free. I’m not safe..._  
  
“Miss Weasley.”  
  
_What is Professor McGonagall doing inside my head?_  
  
“Miss Weasley, can you hear me?”  
  
Ginny blinked and saw two dark eyes gazing anxiously into her own, set in a pale thin face. She licked her lips. “Professor?”  
  
“I am glad to see you’re awake,” said Professor McGonagall. “You can never be sure when someone who has fainted will regain consciousness.”  
  
Ginny gazed at the vaulted ceiling and the long tall windows. She was in the infirmary, in one of those long white beds that Harry had been in last year. It was empty except for her and McGonagall and so quiet that she could hear the Deputy Head breathing.  
  
“Catharine-!” she said, remembering and turning to McGonagall. “Professor, I’m sorry, I just got so angry-!”  
  
“Miss Watson is unharmed,” Professor McGonagall said calmly, stopping the flow of words. “She is a little shocked, but that is all.” She paused, watching Ginny’s face. Ginny looked down, feeling herself flush.  
  
“Miss Weasley, I confess I am a little surprised at your actions. There are students who seem to think every argument needs to be solved with a duel, but I didn’t expect you to be among them. Your three companions would not tell me what started the argument, but it must have been quite serious.”  
  
Ginny felt even worse. How could she explain? “She was... making fun of me, Professor. Not just me, someone I know… a friend.” Her fingers twisted and pleated the coverlet on the bed. There was a silence. She heard McGonagall sigh a little.  
  
“Miss Weasley, I am aware that you had a difficult first year. I was there when you and Mr. Potter returned from the Chamber, if you recall.”  
  
“Yes,” Ginny said, looking down. Her memory became rather blurred at that point, emotions stronger than actual images.  
  
“Even if I had not been there, as your Head of House, I need to know about anything that may affect my students,” Professor McGonagall continued. “I think what happened last year has certainly affected you, yes?”  
  
“I’m all right!” Ginny said instantly. “I don’t want to miss lessons or anything!” She gripped the coverlet tightly. Missing lessons would just confirm that there was something wrong with her…  
  
“Of course you will continue with your lessons,” Professor McGonagall agreed. “But if there is something troubling you, Miss Weasley, you should tell somebody. Ignoring what happened is not going to help anybody, least of all you.”  
  
Ginny pressed her lips together tightly. “Does… anybody else know about what happened?” she asked, dreading the answer.  
  
“Your teachers have been informed, of course. If you faint again… or if something else happens… they will need to know what to do.”  
  
_Because I’m contaminated, is that it? Because you have to keep an eye on me. You can’t let me harm the other students, or myself... I have to be watched. I’m dangerous. Why did you even let me come back if that’s what you think?!_  
  
Ginny hunched her shoulders. She was right back to square one – everyone would hear about what she’d done to Catharine. She’d be ostracised. What if Harry heard? The more she thought about it, the more hopeless it seemed.  
  
“Now, Miss Weasley,” said Professor McGonagall, as if the subject were closed, “although you have been under stress, I cannot allow you to go hexing your dorm companions without punishment.”  
  
Ginny looked up, startled. “What...?”  
  
“You will report to my office this Saturday to do your detention.” Professor McGonagall stood up. “I suggest you stay here for the night. If Madam Pomfrey catches you trying to sneak back to your dormitory, I will not be responsible.” Her lips twitched slightly, and then she turned and left the room.  
  
Ginny watched her go, stunned. Then a small smile made its way to her lips. At least she wasn’t getting special treatment. Good old McGonagall.  
  
“Fred and George are going to be so proud of me,” she murmured, settling back on her pillows.  
  
* * *  
  
Next morning, the Gryffindor table went silent as she appeared. Ginny ignored the silence and sat down to breakfast, although her appetite seemed to have vanished. She could see Hermione and Ron casting worried glances at her from where they were sitting, though Harry didn’t even notice.  
  
_Of course not, he never notices,_ she thought bitterly, and shoved a whole rasher of bacon in her mouth. The meat juices made her feel a little better but not much.  
  
“Scrambled eggs, Ginny?” Ron said loudly, and she looked up in surprise.  
  
“Oh, um, thanks, Ron.” She scooped some onto her plate. She hated scrambled eggs, but the gesture was still appreciated. It wasn’t like he could protect her from her own classmates.  
  
Hermione slid down next to her. “I heard about what happened, Ginny. Are you all right?”  
  
Ginny felt something jump onto her lap and saw that it was Crookshanks, who turned around three times and settled down, purring loudly. Ginny fed him a bit of bacon, and he licked her fingers with a rough pink tongue. “What exactly did you hear?” she asked quietly.  
  
“That you attacked Catharine,” Hermione said, watching her face. “Why?”  
  
“She started singing that stupid song about Harry,” Ginny said, mixing the scrambled eggs with baked beans to make them edible. “I didn’t mean to hex her, I just.... lost control.”  
  
Hermione sighed. “I know it’s difficult not to react when you hear things about Harry... I’m always having to hold back Ron when Malfoy says something.”  
  
Ginny grinned at her plate and fed Crookshanks another piece of bacon. “What I didn’t understand... Hermione, I managed a Bat Bogey Hex.” She heard the older girl gasp and continued before Hermione could say anything. “I’ve never been able to do it before. I’ve practised and practised, but nothing. Why could I do it last night?”  
  
Hermione was silent. Ginny played with her scrambled eggs for a while, then finally cut off a piece, put it in her mouth and swallowed without chewing. “Do you think it’s because of what... he did to me?”  
  
“No!” Hermione said loudly, which made everyone look at her. Hermione ignored them, but she lowered her voice to a fierce whisper. “Ginny, he’s gone. It wasn’t anything to do with him. Your family are great wizards – look at Percy. Even Fred and George... well, they’re inventive...”  
  
Hermione said ‘inventive’ as if she wasn’t quite sure whether it was a compliment or not, but Ginny smiled. The thought that she was following in her brothers’ footsteps was comforting at the moment.  
  
“Anyway,” Hermione finished, “I’m sure you’re going to be a great witch.”  
  
“Thanks, Hermione,” Ginny said, stroking Crookshanks, whose purr seemed to vibrate in her bones. “I just… I don’t know how it’s going to be for a while. Everything was going so well, and now they’re going to act like I’m a Dungbomb.”  
  
“Let them,” Hermione said fiercely. “People are incredibly fickle, Ginny – you saw how everyone turned on Harry last year… but they turned right back again!” she went on hurriedly, seeing Ginny’s expression. “That’s what I was trying to say, I doubt this will last.”  
  
Ginny pushed Crookshanks off and stood up. “I’d better get my books ready,” she said and hurried away.  
  
Outside the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, none of the Gryffindors spoke. The only sound came from the Ravenclaws, chattering to each other about what the new professor would teach them. Ginny was at the head of the queue, holding her head high. She wasn’t going to let them see her beaten and cringing. She still had her pride, Weasley pride.  
  
“Hi, Ginny!”  
  
She turned her head, startled. Colin Creevey beamed at her, camera around his neck as usual. They hadn’t really spoken since they’d returned to school, and Ginny was wondering why Colin wanted to talk to her now.  
  
“Hi, Colin...” she said slowly. “How are you?”  
  
“I’m good. About what happened on the train with Harry...”  
  
“What happened with Harry?” she repeated. “Oh yes, I’ve been meaning to tell you…”  
  
Colin’s brown eyes widened in eagerness and just as he leaned forward, Professor Lupin opened the door. They all looked at him immediately, taking him in. As before, Ginny noticed the contrast between the lines on his pale skin and the light in his brown eyes. A clash of signs. Was he young or old? The smile solved the puzzle, smoothing the lines away, and she realised that he was young - or younger than her father, at any rate.  
  
“Sorry to keep you waiting, I was just preparing for the lesson,” he said, his voice light and calm, such a contrast to Lockhart’s bombastic tones that everyone had to strain to hear him. “Do come in.” He stepped aside, and Ginny had no choice but to walk forward under his eyes. She felt no censure, no accusation, no suspicion. His gaze was kind.  
  
She sat down, and found that tears were pricking her eyes. She could have dealt with hostility or disapproval or wariness. She was not prepared for kindness. Someone sat beside her, but Ginny didn’t dare look up. She had to get herself under control, and did this while getting out her book and her quill and her parchment and her ink well (tightly stoppered).  
  
Professor Lupin waited until everyone had sat down. Then he shut the door and walked to the front of the classroom. He did not swagger like Lockhart had done, but there was something about his presence that kept everyone quiet, waiting to see what he would do. After reaching the blackboard, he turned and surveyed everyone in silence for a while. He didn’t seem to be nervous about facing them. There was a serenity about him.  
  
“Well,” he finally said. “It’s nice to meet you all. My name is Professor Lupin, that’s L-U-P-I-N, and I will be your Defence Against the Dark Arts professor for this year. I want to learn your names, so it would be helpful to tell me who you are before answering a question. Now – I understand that your education last year may not have been up to standard –”  
  
“Up to standard, more like a joke!” said Esmé loudly, and there was a whole chorus of agreement.  
  
“He never even told us if he’d really seen a Yeti,” said a voice mournfully besides Ginny, and she turned to see that Luna Lovegood was sitting next to her.  
  
“Hi, Luna!” she said, surprised.  
  
Luna smiled vaguely at her. She had a pair of earrings that looked like parsnips dangling from her earlobes, except that they were purple and not white, and her hands were decorated with swirls, also in purple. “The seat was empty, so I sat down.”  
  
“That’s... fine,” Ginny said, smiling in reflex and wondering what to say. “How are you?”  
  
“It’s been an interesting week,” Luna said, nodding.  
  
“What have you done to your hands?” Ginny asked, noticing that some Ravenclaw girls were pointing and whispering.  
  
Luna smiled and held them up. “Good, aren’t they? I drew them myself. They’re mandalas. The sacred circle, you know. I always draw them on my hands before Defence Against the Dark Arts. You can never tell...”  
  
“Never tell what?” Ginny whispered.  
  
“What’s going to be attracted to this class. Given the subject, it could be anything: Spaws, Nargles, Gurzles… I like to be prepared. Do you think this is going to be interesting?”  
  
Ginny was about to answer when the noise finally died down. Relieved, she nodded and looked back at Professor Lupin. He was almost smiling.  
  
“Since, as you have so vividly told me, your education in this subject lacked something last year, we will have to do the work of your first year as well as the work for this year.” He paused to let this sink in. “This will be hard work, but I’m confident you can manage it. Are you?”  
  
There was a resounding ‘YES!’ No self-respecting Ravenclaw would have been caught dead turning down an academic challenge. No self-respecting Gryffindor would have been caught dead turning down a challenge full stop.  
  
Professor Lupin smiled at the answer. “Excellent. Then we won’t waste any time.” He turned to the blackboard and wrote down the words ‘Dark Arts’ before turning back to the class. “As you know, this class is called ‘Defence Against the Dark Arts’. But what _are_ the Dark Arts, precisely? You have spells and rituals that are definitely dark, and others that – if you’ll forgive the pun – fall into shades of grey. Ideas?” He looked at them expectantly. Everyone looked at each other. There had been no interaction the previous year, it had just been Lockhart rabbiting on and on about what he’d done, and they’d either taken notes or done their homework from other classes or ignored the fact they were in a lesson altogether.  
  
Ginny waited for someone to say something but no one spoke. Eventually she put up her hand.  
  
“Yes, Miss Weasley,” Professor Lupin said with a smile.  
  
Ginny didn’t ask how he knew her name. Four older brothers with freckles and red hair tended to mark you out. “Forcing someone to do something they don’t want to do,” she said.  
  
Professor Lupin nodded and wrote her answer on the board. “Yes, that’s definitely classified as a Dark Art. Anybody else?”  
  
One of the Ravenclaws put his hand up. “Torturing someone?”  
  
“Good... what else?”  
  
More and more people began to volunteer ideas. Even Rowena came up with one, emboldened by Professor Lupin’s kind smile. “Love potions?” she said tentatively, to a chorus of hoots and whistles.  
  
“Ah… now we come to the shades of grey that I was talking about,” Professor Lupin said, raising his eyebrows. “A love potion doesn’t kill someone, nor does it torture them… not while they’re under its influence anyway.” There were a few nervous smirks at this. “Love potions are banned at Hogwarts… but does that make them Dark?”  
  
There was a silence. Everyone considered the question. Ginny was surprised to see Catharine put up her hand. “Well... it’s not like they harm people, is it, Professor? I mean... love potions, they’re just a bit of fun, really.”  
  
“A bit of fun,” Professor Lupin repeated. The words hung in the air for some moments before he spoke again. “Perhaps they are – for the person who uses them… but consider the person who actually takes the potion, usually without knowing it.” He began to walk back and forth, and the class followed him with their eyes. “The victim – yes, that’s what the person who ingests the potion is called, the victim – usually behaves in an extravagant manner that is totally out of character. Most of the time, the victim ends up entangled with someone that he or she doesn’t love, and may not even like. There have been cases where people have found themselves married someone they barely know; a few women were actually pregnant...” Some of the girls shuddered. “Not a nice thought, is it?” Professor Lupin agreed. “Married to a stranger, perhaps even having his baby. It’s certainly not as bad as killing or torturing someone... but what’s worse? Physical pain… or emotional pain? Are you saying that causing someone emotional distress isn’t Dark, Miss Watson?”  
  
Catharine fidgeted, not liking the way everyone was looking at her. “I didn’t think of it like that... I mean, hurting people is bad, whichever way you do it...”  
  
Professor Lupin nodded. He looked at them all for the moment and then said, “Physical pain is bad, but it can be endured. Emotional pain lasts longer, and leaves deeper scars. That is what makes the Dark Arts so terrifying: they can leave you with scars that will never heal. They can leave you utterly broken in mind, heart and soul... even if you think you can control them eventually they will end up controlling you. That is why you need a strong defence. And that is what I am here to teach you.”  
  
His words rang in the silence. Ginny could hear a rushing in her ears. _Even if you think you can control them, eventually they will end up controlling you._ He couldn’t have been speaking to her more clearly than if he’d added her name at the end of the speech. She opened and closed her fists, barely breathing. She was sure that everyone was looking at her. How could they not? Everyone knew what had happened… well, they knew she’d been taken into the Chamber... Ginny took a deep breath and looked around, but everyone was staring at Professor Lupin. He looked back, sombre and intense, then a brief smile flickered over his features.  
  
“Are you ready to begin?” he said. The reply was more of a roar, but he seemed satisfied.  
  
It seemed as if the lesson whizzed by. Ginny felt like she’d just picked up her quill when the bell rang and the students began to gather their books and things, ready for the next lesson. “Luna,” she said, carefully packing things in, “I’m sorry that I left you on the train. I didn’t mean to just abandon you.”  
  
“You were worried about that boy, weren’t you?” Luna said, frowning. “Neville Longcheek?”  
  
A snort of laughter burst out of Ginny’s mouth before she could help herself. “Neville Longbottom, yes. He’s a bit accident-prone, you see, and-”  
  
“You don’t have to justify yourself to me,” Luna said, sliding her book bag onto her shoulder. Ginny was amazed to see a smile on her face. “I can take care of myself.”  
  
“But the Dementors,” Ginny said, staring at her, “did one come into your compartment?”  
  
“I think one peeked in, yes,” Luna said, blinking. “I don’t really remember much about it. It was awfully dark, you see.” She smiled again. “Bye.”  
  
“Bye,” Ginny replied, watching her go. The group of Ravenclaw girls who had been whispering and giggling followed Luna out of the classroom. Ginny wondered for a moment whether she ought to go and walk with her, but Luna had said she could take care of herself. Ginny knew what it was like to have people fussing over you when all you wanted was to be left alone. She wasn’t going to do the same thing to Luna. Besides, she’d had an idea, and she wanted to try it out.  
  
Taking a deep breath, Ginny marched up to the desk where Professor Lupin was sitting. He did not look up immediately, so she waited, wondering if she should clear her throat or try to get his attention, but there was no need. He dotted the end of a sentence and looked up with those kind brown eyes.  
  
“What can I do for you, Miss Weasley?”  
  
Ginny opened her mouth, then looked down. Why did she have to be stricken all of a sudden? He wasn’t Harry! He was just a teacher! _Please don’t tell me I’m going to start fancying Professor Lupin as well, and be one of those girls who’re in love with five men at the same time like Catharine, I couldn’t take that!_  
  
“Did something about today’s class upset you?”  
  
She licked her lips. _Speak, you idiot!_ “No, Professor, not at all... but... I wanted to know…”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
Ginny took another deep breath. “You’re the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. How do I... you know what happened to me last year.” She looked up, defiant, daring him to say something, anything. Attacking was always the best defence, Ron had taught her that over and over again.  
  
He was still smiling, the same understanding light in his eyes. “Yes, Miss Weasley, Professor Dumbledore has informed me of what happened to you. A terrible ordeal for someone so young.”  
  
“It’s not over!” Ginny said, glaring at him as she held her book bag to her chest. “Everyone thinks it is, but it’s not! I still see... I still dream...” She fought against tears. “I want to stop it! I want to stop dreaming of him, Professor!”  
  
Professor Lupin’s expression darkened, but he did not look away. Ginny knew that he could see her eyes were wet, but it was all she could do to stop herself from crying in front of him, never mind appearing cool about this. She would never be able to keep cool about this.  
  
“Ginny,” Professor Lupin said slowly, “you have been through a terrible ordeal. Such things mark us... scar us. We do not recover from them easily... You are young, which helps, but you will need to be patient. And I’m not surprised you’re having nightmares. That’s actually a good sign – yes, a good sign,” he repeated, smiling briefly at Ginny’s look of disbelief. “I’m sure you’re aware that many people believe dreams are visions of the future, but in my experience that’s very rare. Most dreams are more like… mental photographs. The mind sorts through the things it has learned, absorbing them, ordering them. Nightmares are when your mind is dealing with something extremely disturbing. In nightmares, you are brought face to face with what is frightening you, and the mind attempts to get rid of this fear, or at least subjugate it. People have told you to just forget what happened, get on with your life, yes?”  
  
Ginny nodded, slowly. “My family...”  
  
Professor Lupin nodded. “Your family wants to protect you from suffering anymore. Understandable but… rather late for that. This is far too big to be forgotten, Ginny, your nightmares show that. As much as you want to... and believe me, I can understand that desire... forgetting what happened is not going to help you.”  
  
“Then what do I do?” Ginny almost shouted. “How do I stop it?”  
  
Professor Lupin was silent for a moment, studying her. “You’re going to be late for your next class,” he said. “Potions, isn’t it?”  
  
Ginny nodded, seething. How could he think about classes at a time like this?  
  
“Then you’d better hurry along. Professor Snape is someone who appreciates punctuality.”  
  
“He doesn’t appreciate anything if it’s from a Gryffindor,” Ginny muttered.  
  
Lupin’s lips twitched, almost as if he wanted to smile. “Nevertheless, you should go. But do drop by my office on Sunday afternoon... I may have some things that can help you. Since you’re asking for my help,” he added.  
  
“Of course!” Ginny said, staring at him. “Who else is going to help me?” Without waiting for an answer, she turned around and hurried off. The way her temper was at the moment, she did not want a scolding from Snape if she could help it.  
  
* * *  
  
Quidditch had been one of Ginny’s favourite activities ever since she could remember. All her brothers except Percy played, and even Percy was a devoted spectator. She hadn’t been allowed to join in with their games, of course, but she’d managed to get around that and one of the few bright points in her first year was finding out about Oliver Wood’s training programme. Wood had dedicated himself to the cause of winning the Quidditch Cup back from Slytherin. Ginny could understand that. She’d been determined to attend practices as soon as she was old enough and now that determination was doubled: not only did she love the game, it would be a way to show everyone that she was normal.  
  
It was a bright, windy day when they arrived on the pitch. The tops of the trees in the Forbidden Forest were swaying gently in time with the breeze. Ginny couldn’t resist a quick glance at the stands to see if Harry was there. No. Only Neville, wearing a pair of fluffy red earmuffs. Ginny wondered how he always managed to make himself a target, but then Oliver Wood emerged from the changing rooms and she forgot all about Neville in her excitement.  
  
Oliver surveyed the group before he spoke, his dark eyes narrow, assessing them already. Only when he’d looked at each and every one of them did he speak. “Good to see some new faces,” he said, nodding. “We’ve got a full team but that isn’t permanent. This is Quidditch; one Bludger and you could be out for weeks. It’s essential that we have good replacements where possible. So I’m going to watch you in each position and see where your talent lies. And we’ll start with the simplest position: Chaser. Now, I’m not saying being Chaser is easy – but when it comes to the game, all you have to do is pass the Quaffle and try to score goals. One aim. We’ll concentrate on passing, then marking, then scoring. That should be enough for today. Get up there and pair off.”  
  
Ginny mounted her broom and kicked at the ground, feeling a rush of delight and relief as gravity released her. She’d been watched so closely over the summer that ‘borrowing’ a broomstick had been almost impossible; she’d almost forgotten just how good it was to feel the wind kiss her face. Her joy at being airborne again was so strong that the first Chaser exercise passed her by in a kind of haze. She didn’t even mind having Lewis Gudgeon as her partner. Lewis often had to fly off to retrieve her passes after missing them, but Ginny didn’t care. She didn’t even care that he seemed to be throwing the Quaffle everywhere except at her. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except the sun, the sky and the space all around her. She knew what to do. Hadn’t she seen her brothers practice this a hundred times? The Quaffle flew through the air and Ginny knew exactly where she had to go in order to grab it. It was cool and rough in her hands, vibrating slightly with its anti-gravity charm. She wanted to fly towards the end of the pitch and fling it through the hoops, then loop the loop and scream for joy.  
  
_You can’t get me here. Not here. I’m free. You never flew, never!_  
  
The whistle shocked her – had they really been playing for five minutes? She turned her broom and flew towards Oliver, who was hovering in the middle of the pitch.  
  
“Quaffles in the centre!” Oliver said, balancing on his broom with a confidence that reminded Ginny of Charlie. He waited until everyone had tossed their Quaffles towards him so that they hovered in a red ring around his broomstick. “Some good passing, but now we’re moving onto marking,” he announced. “Anyone can throw a Quaffle but the secret of being a good Chaser is being able to pass and mark at the same time. Based on what I’ve seen, I’m going to put you into threes – passer, receiver and marker. The passer will be looking to pass the Quaffle to the receiver, while the marker will be trying to stop this happening. Mind, I’m not saying who to mark – because that all depends on you and your personal judgement. Intuition is part of Quidditch, and intuition is what helps a Chaser to know where they should be marking.”  
  
Ginny got paired with Margaret Jones and Demelza Robins. Both of them smiled at her. “Saw you with Lewis, you look pretty good,” Demelza remarked, her Cornish accent turning every word into a song. “Shame that he’s a bit inaccurate.”  
  
Margaret clicked her tongue. “Shouldn’t even be up here if he’s that bad, how’s he going to cope when we have to dodge the Bludgers?”  
  
Ginny sighed. “I think Lewis will probably miss next week.”  
  
“Along with about half of us,” Margaret remarked. “Are those girls friends of yours, Ginny?”  
  
Ginny glanced down. To her shock, Catharine, Esmé and Rowena were sitting in the stands next to Neville. Rowena waved and Esmé held her hand to her eyes. “They’re… from my dormitory,” she managed to say.  
  
“Good to see them out here in support,” Demelza said with a smile. “So, you going to be the marker, Ginny?”  
  
“What... oh, yeah.” Ginny nodded. “Ready when you are.” She flew in front of Margaret, part of her still in a daze. Why were they there? Catharine as well, not just Rowena and Esmé. Ginny would have been less surprised to see Luna, although she had no idea what Neville would have made of her.  
  
She wasn’t allowed to stay shocked for long. Demelza and Margaret were much closer to her skill level and she found it difficult to both mark Margaret and keep her eye on the Quaffle. Still, she felt that she’d made the right decision. Demelza was much more agile on her broom than Margaret, more willing to loop and twist. Eventually, Ginny got the Quaffle and they switched around. This time, Margaret marked, while Ginny was the passer and Demelza the receiver. Ginny couldn’t help noticing that she and Demelza made a good team. Margaret noticed it, too. She got redder and redder and switched from marking Ginny to marking Demelza. Oliver blew the whistle just after she finally caught the Quaffle.  
  
“You didn’t get to mark,” Ginny said to Demelza in a low voice as they flew back. She didn’t want Margaret hearing.  
  
Demelza shrugged and gave her a quick smile. “If you’re as dedicated about this as you seem to be, I’ll surely get a chance. It was good to play with you, Ginny.”  
  
Ginny felt a warmth spread through her. “You too,” she said, then Oliver began to speak.  
  
“Right; I’m going to give you each a shot at scoring. Firstly without any barrier and then with me in front of them as Keeper. And if you can get a goal past me, then you might be a future Chaser.”  
  
“So no pressure,” Margaret muttered, making Demelza and Ginny giggle.  
  
They were right at the end of the queue. Lewis managed to score a goal without Oliver there but the presence of someone in front of the hoops completely threw him and his second throw went soaring over them towards the Forbidden Forest. It was a good thing that the Quaffle was charmed to stop at the pitch barrier. Oliver Summoned it back and threw it to the next in line. Margaret almost got a goal past him, but Oliver flipped at the last moment and blocked the Quaffle with the end of his broom. Demelza got one past him by feinting and then throwing overarm instead of under. Everyone cheered and clapped her. Ginny took a deep breath and flew forward, catching the Quaffle easily and throwing it through the hoops unblocked without a second thought. Then she held it in her hands, watching as Oliver flew back and forth, aware of all the eyes on her, hearing the wind blow in her ears.  
  
It came to her that you need all three things in Quidditch: your eyes to see where the Quaffle is, your ears to hear what your teammates want and to listen for Bludgers and your hands, of course. Hands were an essential part of the game. She thought of Harry’s hands, reaching out and grasping the Snitch; Harry’s hands, covered in blood and gripping Gryffindor’s sword.  
  
She lifted the Quaffle and threw. It sailed just under Oliver’s outstretched arm and through the hoop. The people behind her whooped and clapped and when she looked at the stands, she saw that Rowena and Catharine were standing up, while Neville had put both fingers in his mouth to whistle.  
  
“Weasley, Robins, I’d like to speak to you!” Oliver said as they all landed. “Just a quick five minutes,” he added as they walked back to him. “Have either of you ever thought of being Seeker?”  
  
Ginny stared at him. Demelza looked equally shocked. “Surely you’re not thinking of replacing Harry, Oliver?” she asked. “He’s amazing.”  
  
Ginny went from shocked to slightly suspicious. Did Demelza think Harry’s Quidditch skills were amazing or did she think _Harry_ was amazing?  
  
Oliver laughed. “No chance of us replacing Harry while he’s fit and willing,” he assured them. “But he does have a tendency to... well, things happen to him, you both know that.” His eyes flickered to Ginny, but he carried on. “I would like to know that there’s a replacement in an emergency.”  
  
Demelza shook her head. “I couldn’t do it; I couldn’t just sit there, watching and waiting. I need to be doing something.”  
  
Oliver nodded soberly and looked at Ginny. “Weasley?” He raised an eyebrow.  
  
Ginny looked at him and realised why she liked him so much. She nodded. “I’ll think about it,” she said.  
  
A relieved smile spread over Oliver’s face. “Great. I’ll see you both next week, all right? Good practice!” He ran off to pack up the Quaffles, broom on his shoulder.  
  
Demelza watched him go and sighed. “I’m not saying devotion on Quidditch is a bad thing but… he could open his eyes occasionally.”  
  
Ginny looked at her, startled. Then she smiled ruefully. “I know exactly what you mean,” she agreed. “They can be so...”  
  
“Blind,” Demelza finished. They both laughed and walked back to the changing rooms. Margaret had been waiting. Ginny could tell that she wasn’t impressed by the way she immediately started asking Demelza about what Oliver had wanted. Ginny shrugged to herself, showered and dressed, more interested in finding out how the other girls had found out about the training. Demelza still managed to shoot her a quick smile before she left, and Ginny put that away to think about.  
  
Rowena, Catharine, Esmé and Neville were all waiting for her by the stands, beaming.  
  
“You were brilliant!” Neville said, his eyes round. “You should definitely get on the team, Ginny!”  
  
Ginny shrugged, feeling a Weasley blush spread over her face. “I’ve still got a lot of training to do before I get that good, Neville.”  
  
“You got one past Oliver, that’s not easy to do,” Esmé observed. “And Demelza looked good as well. But what was Lewis doing there?”  
  
Ginny laughed. “I have _no_ idea – how did you find out about this anyway?”  
  
Rowena smiled. “You’re not the only one who’s interested in Quidditch, Ginny! And you’re our dorm mate. It’s only right we come and cheer you on.”  
  
“Oliver Wood is so dreamy,” sighed Catharine. “What were you two talking about?” She nudged Ginny, trying to look sly. “I bet it was nice to look into those big brown eyes of his.”  
  
Ginny shrugged. “Brown eyes aren’t my thing, remember, Catharine? Now let’s go inside or we’ll be late for Transfiguration.” She gave Neville a smile, thanking him for the support, and he blushed a little.  
  
Catharine kept trying to probe her about Oliver all through Transfiguration, but Ginny didn’t take any notice. She knew why she liked Oliver. She liked him because he called her ‘Weasley’, just like her brothers; because being thin and petite meant she might make a good Seeker, not that she should be protected; because he treated her exactly how she wanted to be treated. And that was a rarity in her life.  
  
* * *  
  
Just before five o’clock on Sunday afternoon, Ginny stood before Professor Lupin’s door, trying to screw up enough courage to knock. Why was she feeling this way? So tense, so cold, so… scared. Why should she be scared of him?  
  
_Oh, be honest with yourself if nobody else. You’re not scared of him._  
  
Her hand dropped again, and she took a deep breath, fighting against the burning in her eyes. _I will not cry, I will not cry, I WILL NOT CRY._ Once the danger was passed, she took a deep breath.  
  
_You have to do this. You can’t go through your whole life having nightmares and feeling scared all the time._  
  
Ginny looked at the window set just above her in the curving wall. September sunlight created a golden curtain across the step, and she could see faded blue sky and trails of cloud through the arrow slit. It was a perfect day and she hadn’t even been outside, she’d spent most of it doing homework and worrying about the meeting, not necessarily in that order. Oh, and occasionally looking at Harry to see if he was looking at her. No such luck.  
  
The irritation at Harry was strong enough to push back the fear and help Ginny actually knock on the door. She heard Professor Lupin call out “Come in!” and did so before she could change her mind. Closing the door behind her, she lingered on the threshold, gazing around.  
  
The room was filled with bookcases and tables on which she could see tanks of stagnant water and plaster models of various Dark creatures, which hissed or flapped or snarled on their stands. Some of the books looked very old, the leather on the spines cracking. She could smell paper, beeswax and the unpleasant tang of dank water. Lupin was sitting behind the desk, obviously marking something from the scratches and dots he was making with his quill. He looked up and a smile flashed over his face, like sunlight on a cloudy day. “Miss Weasley. Do sit down.”  
  
Ginny walked forward and sat down on the chair in front of his desk. It immediately shifted to accommodate her, the hugging sensation firm but not claustrophobic. Professor Lupin laid the quill down. “How have you been, Miss Weasley? Apart from the nightmares,” he added as Ginny opened her mouth.  
  
“I’m fine,” she said automatically, then elaborated as he raised an eyebrow. “Well, not fine... I suppose you heard about my detention.”  
  
“I did hear about it,” he said, nodding calmly. “It’s rather early in the term.”  
  
Ginny bit her lip. “I wasn’t aiming to get a detention,” she said, unable to keep the sharpness from her voice. “I’m not like my brothers,” she added in a lower voice, feeling as if she were betraying them by admitting this.  
  
“Of course not,” Lupin said, putting his papers away in a drawer. “You’re a completely separate person. But you are also a Gryffindor.” He straightened, smiling slightly. “And Gryffindors tend to see detentions rather differently from the other houses.”  
  
“Were you a Gryffindor, sir?” Ginny asked, noting the smile.  
  
Professor Lupin nodded. “Yes, strange as it may seem.”  
  
“I don’t think it’s strange,” Ginny said. “You stood up to those Dementors; if that’s not bravery, I don’t know what is.” The room darkened as she remembered their rattling breath and the way Tom’s voice had suddenly invaded her head, growing louder and louder. Goosebumps raced over her skin and she shivered.  
  
“There are all kinds of bravery, Miss Weasley,” Professor Lupin said gently, snapping her back into the present. “Facing down mental demons takes quite as much courage as facing down physical ones. Perhaps more,” he added, almost to himself.  
  
Ginny realised she was leaning forward and made herself sit back in the chair. “You can call me ‘Ginny’, sir. Everybody else does. You did save me in the carriage, it would be silly to stand on formality after that,” she pointed out.  
  
Lupin studied her. “Ginny. Not Ginevra.”  
  
“Urgh, no,” Ginny said, making a face. “Anything but that! I’d rather be called ‘Miss Weasley’! Nobody calls me ‘Ginevra’ except my Great Auntie Muriel, and then she wonders why I hardly ever speak to her.”  
  
Professor Lupin’s mouth twitched. “As someone with a rather unusual first name, I shall honour your wishes,” he said gravely. “Now.” He pushed back his chair and went over to one of the bookshelves. “I noticed that you had an extreme reaction to the Dementors on the train, extreme for someone so young, that is; but it made sense when Professor Dumbledore explained who you were and what had happened to you.”  
  
“What – exactly – did he tell you?” Ginny asked, forcing the words out. She didn’t even want to think about this, but she needed to know exactly how much Dumbledore had said.  
  
Lupin pulled out three books and came back to the desk, setting them on one side. Then he sat down and pulled up his chair, looking her in the eye. “He told me that you’d had the misfortune to be manipulated and then possessed by Lord Voldemort.” Ginny shut her eyes, wondering how he could say that name so easily. “He said that you’d been made to do things without your knowledge, and that it had been a very traumatic experience for you. He also said that you’d been extremely brave.”  
  
Ginny almost jumped out of her chair. “I wasn’t brave! I was stupid, stupid and little and…” Here came the tears, sticking in her throat. She clenched her fists, fighting them. “I was a stupid little girl, sir, I wasn’t brave at all.”  
  
Professor Lupin didn’t reply. When she finally thought it was safe to open her eyes, he was still sitting behind his desk; there was a sad look in his eyes, a look of understanding. “Ginny,” he said. “I could tell you that you were brave and innocent until I was blue in the face, but it wouldn’t do you any good. You have to believe that. You have to believe that you were brave, that you were not just a ‘stupid little girl’. Plenty of people have been fooled by him, Ginny; but not many have lived to tell the tale.”  
  
“Harry-”  
  
“If you want to know about Harry’s motives, I suggest you ask him, not me.”  
  
Ginny almost laughed out loud. Talk to Harry? She couldn’t even look the boy in the eye without going up in flames. “I doubt that’s going to happen, sir,” she said, looking at her knees.  
  
“Well, I didn’t say anything about ‘now’,” Lupin said, a trace of amusement in his voice. “You have all the time in the world to talk to Harry, Ginny. How about we start focusing on you? That is why you’re here, after all.”  
  
Ginny looked up and nodded, grateful that he’d changed the subject. Professor Lupin took the first book off the pile and opened it, obviously having marked his place. Ginny looked at the spines of the other two books: the first had the title picked out in gold on dark green leather: _Maladies of the Mind_ by Ima Loon; the other book was obviously much older, its spine was scored with lines and the title seemed to have been burnt into the skin: _Dis-Eases of the Ancient World And Their Remedies_ by Asklepios Asikis.  
  
“The ancient world?” she murmured.  
  
“Your illness isn’t new, Ginny,” Professor Lupin assured her with a crooked smile. “It’s been around for centuries, for thousands of years; for as long as people have had to fight, in fact.” He turned the book he was holding and held it out to her. “It has various names – _maladie du pays_, _heimweh_ – but we call it _Animus Debilitus_, because most people who experience it feel tired, worn out deep inside themselves.”  
  
Ginny nodded slowly and took the book. It was obviously a dictionary of some sort: there was the name; the definition; the symptoms and various treatments. Lower down, a phrase caught her eye.  
  
“An abnormal response to an abnormal situation is normal behaviour,” she read aloud, the words ringing in her mind.  
  
“Your reactions were perfectly reasonable, given your circumstances; now we have to help your body and mind accept that the abnormal situation is over and you are safe,” Lupin explained.  
  
“How?” Ginny said simply, looking at him.  
  
“Carry on with your life, which you’ve already done; but don’t try and pretend you’re all right. If people want to help you, you should let them help you, Ginny. I know that’s hard – believe me, I know – but it is important.” He paused: his dark eyes were sympathetic but his mouth was stern. Ginny knew he meant it. She nodded. Professor Lupin smiled. “The second thing is have fun. I hope you won’t find that too difficult. And the third thing... is a little more challenging.”  
  
“I don’t mind,” Ginny said instantly.  
  
“No, what I mean is... this is something you really will have to do on your own. I can give you the tools but the rest is up to you.” He opened _Dis-Eases of the Ancient World_ and ran his finger down one page. “Since this is an ancient illness, naturally there are ancient remedies – I’ll spare you the one involving toad skin,” he added with a small smile. “The one I think you should try is called ‘lucid dreaming’.”  
  
“Lucid dreaming?” Ginny repeated, thinking it sounded like a soft option.  
  
“It’s a technique where you take control of your dream and make it do what you want, for lack of a better description,” Professor Lupin said with a smile. “You follow the dream to its conclusion but on your terms.”  
  
Ginny couldn’t help smiling. “I like that,” she said. “What do I have to do?”  
  
He handed her the book. “It’s all there.”  
  
The entry was so short that Ginny almost blinked and missed it.  
  
_When going to sleep, tell yourself, ‘This is my dream, I am in control.’ Repeat this phrase seven times. Whilst dreaming, if something happens that you don’t like, repeat the phrase until you feel in control. Then take the dream somewhere else._  
  
Ginny stared. She read it over three times. Then she looked up at him, feeling her face burn. “Is this some sort of joke? This isn’t going to help me!”  
  
“I told you it was challenging,” Professor Lupin reminded her. “Magic cannot help you here, Ginny. This is inside your mind. It is between you and what happened. It will take a lot of hard work and patience.” He raised his eyebrows at her. “I know that’s not a Gryffindor’s strong point, but I thought you were determined to try anything.”  
  
“I was! I am! I mean...” Ginny looked down. She hadn’t anticipated that ‘anything’ would mean repeating meaningless phrases. She’d thought she could brew a potion, do some exercises... something practical.  
  
“Anything that’s a little dangerous or strange, but not talking to yourself before going to bed.” Ginny looked up, startled. He’d picked the words out of her head. He looked down for a moment, sighing. “I hate to sound harsh, Ginny, but it’s all you can do: live your life and train yourself to confront your fears. On your own. I can give you encouragement, and we can discuss your progress but that’s all. Or you can take a sleeping draught.” When he looked at her, his eyes were very serious. She felt almost afraid of the look in them. “I told you that there are all kinds of bravery. It would be easier to give you some tasks to do, yes, but they wouldn’t accomplish anything. This is what you need to do. Do you understand?”  
  
She nodded, feeling that she couldn’t do anything else. He’d done all this research for her, he’d taken her seriously. And she did understand what she was saying, but she didn’t like it. She just wanted to make it all go away right now. Hadn’t she gone through enough?  
  
Then Professor Lupin smiled. Wrinkles gathered around his eyes and Ginny felt a sharp pang. Who was she to complain? Professor Lupin looked like he’d gone through lots of bad things, and he could still smile.  
  
“Will you at least give it a try?” he said. “That’s all I ask, Ginny. That you try this.” He held out the book. “Bedtime reading. It’s quite interesting. If you haven’t seen any improvement in three months’ time, then I’ll have it back and you can ask Madam Pomfrey for a sleeping draught.”  
  
Ginny nodded. “I’ll try,” she said, “I’ll definitely try my best.”  
  
“Good.” His smile widened. “I look forward to hearing about your progress.”  
  
She got up, nodded once more, wishing that she could thank him in a better way. _Maybe I’ll ask Mum if she can knit a scarf for him,Or maybe there’s something in here. After all, there are probably lots of illnesses in here that are still around under different names. I just need to find out what’s wrong with him._  
  
Fuelled by this resolve, Ginny hurried back to the tower. The Fat Lady gazed down at her, raising one pencil-thin eyebrow. “Someone’s cheered up,” she observed.  
  
“You’re looking lovely today,” Ginny replied with a smile.  
  
The Fat Lady actually blushed and glanced down at herself. “It’s only the same old thing.”  
  
“Yes, but it suits you so well,” Ginny told her, trying not to laugh. _“Fortuna Major!”_  
  
She climbed into the Common Room, waved at Rowena and Esmé by the window (Catharine was deep in _Witch Weekly_), and walked across to the staircase. Harry was at his usual table with Ron, doing his homework. Ginny allowed herself one glance (oh his hair, his eyes), then ran up the stairs and into her dormitory. She put the book on her bedside cabinet and sat down, taking a deep breath. Her bed was by the casement, so she could see out across the ground towards the Forbidden Forest. As she sat looking out, she saw something large and black emerge from the trees. Startled, Ginny stood up and moved closer. It was definitely an animal, on all fours. She thought for one moment that it was a wolf, but wolves were extinct in Scotland. There was that rumour of werewolves, but it was broad daylight. No, it had to be a dog. An extremely big dog. Ginny frowned as the dog turned and moved back into the forest.  
  
“Weird.”  
  
She wondered if Hagrid knew something about it, and made a note to ask him. For now, she didn’t have to do anything except go back downstairs, sit with the girls and relax because she’d done all her homework. She allowed herself to skip, because nobody was there and she was feeling so very buoyed up all of a sudden. Then she stopped. Crookshanks was sitting at the entrance to the boys’ dormitories, lashing his tail. He was making a low growling sound in his throat, which stopped when he saw that Ginny was looking at him.  
  
“You know, there are plenty of other rats in this castle; you don’t have to settle for mangy old Scabbers anymore,” she told him with a frown.  
  
Crookshanks’s face was a little too squashed to register much expression, but his eyes took up the slack. He gave Ginny a look that said he was extremely disappointed in her, turned and trotted back down the stairs. Ginny followed him, thoughtful, wondering. What did he expect? She wanted to tell herself that Crookshanks was just upset about missing out on a free lunch, but somehow, it didn’t seem right. Why would Crookshanks want to deliberately pick on Scabbers now that he had the whole of Hogwarts in which to hunt?  
  
This continued to niggle her for the rest of the day, all through dinner and up to bed. Ginny had been through too much to ignore her instincts but that wasn’t very helpful when she didn’t know what they were telling her. “Look!” she finally said to herself that night, as she brushed her teeth. “You can’t do anything about it. Crookshanks is Hermione’s cat, and Scabbers is Ron’s rat. It’s none of your business what happens. Think about yourself. Think about that great big... thing you saw in the forest. I mean it can’t have been a wolf... wolf!” She stared into the mirror, remembering Professor Lupin’s first name: Remus. _That’s it! Remus was a baby found and brought up by wolves!_ She thought of her story book upstairs and then quickly shook her head. “Don’t. He’s a nice man. He’s a teacher. There’s no way Dumbledore would hire a wolf as a teacher,” she told her pale reflection; then she rinsed her mouth out and hurried to bed.  
  
_Ancient Dis-Eases_ felt heavy in her hands as she took it out, having made sure to draw her curtains first. She could hear Catharine and Rowena talking in low voices as she opened the book and stared at the marked page. A comforting smell of herbs wafted from the paper, reminding her of home, and tears pricked Ginny’s eyes. She took a deep breath and began to commit the phrase to memory.  
  
She would accept this helping hand for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heartfelt thanks go to Grace has Victory from The Sugar Quill for helping me to decide on Ginny’s illness, its symptoms and how the wizarding world would cure them. The illness is indeed very ancient and has many names, including the ones used above; the surgeons in the American Civil War called it ‘exhausted heart’ or ‘soldier’s heart’. We know it as Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome or PTSD.
> 
> The phrase Ginny reads out loud from the book actually comes from Man’s Search For Meaning by Victor Frankel, a psychologist who survived four Nazi concentration camps.
> 
> Maladie du pays and heimweh mean ‘homesickness’, in French and German respectively.
> 
> I would like to state that I do not believe the Bat Bogey Hex is Dark Magic, nor do I believe Ginny has been 'contaminated' by Riddle. Ginny is overwrought at this point and he is on her mind. That is all.


	4. PART FOUR: The Wild Wood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated PG for rule breaking, adolescent girls and subconscious threat

PART FOUR: The Wild Wood  
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Little Red Cap opened her eyes and saw the sunlight breaking through the trees and how the ground was covered with beautiful flowers. She thought, "If I take a bouquet to grandmother, she will be very pleased. Anyway, it is still early, and I'll be home on time." And she ran off into the woods looking for flowers. Each time she picked one she thought that she could see an even more beautiful one a little way off, and she ran after it, going further and further into the woods.

\---------------------------------------------------

It was no secret that Hagrid’s first Care of Magical Creatures lesson had not been a great success. A Hippogriff had injured Draco Malfoy, and even though 75% of the school agreed he probably deserved it, Hagrid was still on probation. Ginny went down to see him as soon as she could; Esmé came with her, much to Ginny’s surprise. It appeared that beneath her groomed appearance, Esmé had the heart of an Amazon.  
  
“I think all these creatures are absolutely fascinating,” she told Ginny, as they made their way towards Hagrid’s hut. “I’m thinking of becoming a magical vet; or maybe a conservationist, you know, preserving habitats. One of your brothers does something like that, doesn’t he?”  
  
“Mm, Charlie, he’s the second oldest, he’s in Romania.” Ginny was touched that Esmé remembered. “I could write to him if you like, see if he’s got any advice.”  
  
“Fantastic!” Esmé exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as they smiled at each other.  
  
When Ginny first knocked on Hagrid’s door, there was no reply, but when she knocked again, there was a grunt of, “All righ’, all righ’, I’m comin’!”  
  
The door swung back to reveal Hagrid’s enormous bulk. As soon as he saw who it was, he beamed. “Ginny! And yeh brought a friend! Come in, come in.” He stepped aside so they could enter. Fang rose from his basket, tail swinging through the air, tongue already lolling out. Esmé cooed over him, rubbing his ears while Fang slobbered all over her robes.  
  
“He likes yeh,” Hagrid said with delight.  
  
Esmé sighed. “I think he’s adorable.”  
  
Ginny almost snorted out loud. She could think of many words to describe Fang, but ‘adorable’ wasn’t one of them. “This is Esmé Crosse, Hagrid,” she said. “We share the same dormitory.”  
  
“Any friend o’ Ginny’s is a friend o’ mine,” Hagrid assured Esmé, grinning as she sat down and Fang plopped his head on her knee. Esmé smiled up at him.  
  
“It’s so nice to meet you, Mr. Hagrid, Ginny’s told us so much about you…”  
  
“Oh, there’s no need ter call me ‘Mister’,” Hagrid said bashfully, waving his hand and creating a breeze strong enough to fan them.  
  
“That’s right, it’s ‘Professor’ now, isn’t it?” Ginny teased, making Hagrid blush even deeper. He hurried over to the fire and took off the kettle, which was whistling shrilly.  
  
“’M not really a teacher,” he said gloomily. “I’m still on probation.”  
  
“But Dumbledore didn’t sack you,” Ginny pointed out. “So you’re still a teacher. You’re still taking classes. That’s what matters.”  
  
Hagrid only grunted in reply, pouring the tea, adding milk to all three mugs, then five teaspoons of sugar to his own.  
  
“I think it’s outrageous!” Esmé said angrily. “Anybody who gets injured by a Hippogriff only has himself to blame, surely the governors know that?”  
  
“We are talking about the board of governors who removed Dumbledore last year, right?” Ginny reminded her.  
  
Esmé rolled her eyes. “Sorry, Ginny, you’re right. What was I thinking?” She blew on the mug of tea that Hagrid had put before her, but didn’t drink from it quite yet. “But I still can’t believe they’re upholding Malfoy’s claim.”  
  
Hagrid shrugged. “He jus’ wants ter remind everyone he’s still go’ power, even if he’s not a governor.”  
  
Ginny clenched her fists. It was Lucius Malfoy who’d put the diary in her cauldron, just to get Dad discredited. There was no real proof, of course, but they all knew, she and her family; and now he was trying to ruin Hagrid’s life as well. “Lucius Malfoy,” she began hotly, then stopped. She had six older brothers and she knew plenty of words to describe that man. But in front of Esmé and Hagrid, she could only say, “He’s a worm.”  
  
Esmé looked thoughtful. “There used to be wingless dragons called wyrms, didn’t there, Hagrid?”  
  
“Yeah,” Hagrid agreed. “But they’re pretty rare now. Muggles put all those pipes down and dug up the wells.” He sniffed, unimpressed.  
  
“Sounds about right for Mr. Malfoy,” Esmé said with a grim smile. “Lurking down a well, just waiting for someone to try and draw water, then up he comes with those cold grey eyes and has some poor innocent person for lunch.”  
  
“I hope somebody sticks a sword down his throat one day!” Ginny said, then realised her fingernails were cutting into her palms.  
  
Hagrid looked stern. “Now just hold on a sec,” he said, his voice rumbling. “There’s going ter be no stickin’ swords or anythin’ of that nature. Yeh keep yer head down, Ginny. Don’t get any funny ideas.”  
  
“She won’t,” Esmé said, before Ginny could protest. “Is Buckbeak outside, Hagrid?”  
  
“Yeah. Professor Dumbledore said it was probably a good idea to keep ’im apart from the others, so ’e’s in the pumpkin patch.” Hagrid brightened. “It’s about his feedin’ time – want to watch?”  
  
“I’d love to!” Esmé said happily.  
  
Ginny was fuming at being told – _again_ – to stay out of trouble, but she nodded anyway, because it was Hagrid. He was only trying to look out for her and… well, she owed Hagrid something, she thought, guilt suddenly dropping over her like a Lethifold. Those roosters last year... the blood on her hands... it was all because of her.  
  
She followed Hagrid and Esmé outside. Buckbeak was lying down, head on his front legs, looking bored. Ginny couldn’t blame him. As soon as he saw Hagrid, the Hippogriff lifted his head with a harsh cry of welcome.  
  
“Now you’d better stay ’ere, girls, Beakie gets a bit frisky when it’s feeding time,” Hagrid warned them, before stepping forward.  
  
_Frisky?_ Ginny thought. Then Buckbeak got up and she saw just how big he was; his wingspan was at least six feet. _Harry rode him?_ she thought. Her heart pounded just at the thought. Buckbeak was so high off the ground and he was not a broom, he had thoughts and feelings and a very sharp beak...  
  
“Oh my God, he’s _amazing_,” breathed Esmé, who obviously thought differently. Ginny felt a sudden warm glow of affection through her nerves. Esmé’s fascination was so very like Charlie.  
  
“’ello, Buckbeak,” crooned Hagrid, as the Hippogriff nuzzled his neck. “Got some visitors today. Tha’s Esmay and tha’s Ginny, Ron’s little sister.”  
  
Esmé beamed and waved. Ginny wondered why Hagrid was bothering to introduce them: after all, it wasn’t as if they were going to be friends. Hagrid continued to tell Buckbeak about his day. Esmé stood as close as she dared, but Ginny went and sat on the back step with Fang. She stroked Fang’s head and gazed off into the trees: the sight of Buckbeak tearing his dinner open made her feel slightly queasy.  
  
The Forbidden Forest came right up to the fence around Hagrid’s garden, so it was possible to see a little way into the trees. From here, it looked quite a pleasant place, full of rowan bushes. Ginny wondered what it was like inside. She knew that Fred and George had often gone in there, despite it being against the rules (maybe because it was against the rules). As a first year, she’d heard all the tales about it, tales expressly designed to frighten first years so they wouldn’t go near it. Werewolves, vampires, hags… you name it, it lived in the forest. Still, it couldn’t be that bad, she thought. It might be quite nice to go in there and get away from it all… if nobody saw you, of course. And that dog had come out of the forest. Maybe if she went in there, she could find it. Something moved among the trees, interrupting her thoughts, and she saw it was Luna.  
  
Ginny squinted: what was Luna doing there? She seemed to be patting something invisible and talking to herself. No matter how hard she stared, Ginny couldn’t see anything beside Luna, no animal or person. She turned her head and watched Esmé talking to Hagrid, her mind whirling. She knew plenty of people who’d had imaginary friends when little, but they were almost thirteen now. Luna might already be thirteen. Thirteen-year-olds did not have invisible friends. Was Luna really crazy? Ginny refused to believe that, but what else could it mean?  
  
_I’ll have to ask her next time I see her._  
  


* * *

  
  
The problem was that even when Ginny did see Luna, she didn’t really have much time to talk to her, let alone ask a rather important question like “What exactly were you doing in the Forbidden Forest?” Apart from the second year being slightly harder all round, they were working doubly hard to catch up with Defence Against the Dark Arts. On top of that, she had those mental exercises every evening. Not that she’d made any progress. September gave way to October and opening the door still terrified her. She had managed to walk to the door without screaming herself awake, but that was it. She still had to go through the door and that prospect still made her wake up, heart pounding.  
  
“What did you expect?” Professor Lupin said after she complained one Sunday afternoon.  
  
Ginny made a face. She didn’t get questions like that very often. They demanded truthful answers. “I don’t know... a breakthrough... something different!”  
  
He raised both eyebrows. “I told you that this takes time and patience, Ginny. It’s a continual process. It might take you months or even years.”  
  
“Years?!”  
  
He met her gaze calmly. “I don’t want to raise your expectations.”  
  
Ginny hoped he was joking. “I thought this would make me stronger…” she said softly, looking down at her hands. Then she confessed in a small voice, “I thought that these exercises would make it so that I didn’t have to go through the door.”  
  
She waited for the laughter or derision, but it didn’t come. When she looked up at him again, Professor Lupin was watching her with such empathy that she felt tears come into her eyes and had to think of Fang slobbering on Esmé’s robes in order to hold them back.  
  
“The truth is, Ginny,” he said, “you’ve already gone through that door. You were forced through it. Now you have to accept that and go through it on your own terms. Do you understand what I’m saying?”  
  
Ginny nodded, trying to swallow with a swollen, sore throat.  
  
“I know you don’t want to go through the door,” Professor Lupin went on, the gentle tone of his voice making her chest ache. “I know that you wish you could slam that door shut, lock it, and forget all about it. But that’s not possible, not for you, not anymore. The sooner you realise that… the sooner you will be able to face opening the door without fear.”  
  
Ginny felt a tear slip down her face. Without a word, Professor Lupin pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to her. She took it and let a few more tears slip out, while he looked elsewhere.  
  
“I wish I could make it easier for you, Ginny,” he said, as she took deep breaths and forced her shoulders to stop shaking. “But even if I could... that would not help you.”  
  
“You are helping me,” she said, lifting her head. “You don’t patronise me. You don’t tell me that it will all go away. You always tell me the truth.” An idea occurred to her. “Professor...”  
  
“Yes?” He took back the handkerchief.  
  
“Are there any creatures – Dark creatures, I mean – that can be invisible to one person and not to another?”  
  
Professor Lupin frowned. “Well, that depends, Ginny... hags are the only Dark creatures which can cast magic, so they might be able to make themselves only visible to one person.”  
  
“No, I was thinking specifically of animals,” Ginny explained. “I saw... I saw someone a while ago, they were talking and patting something, but there was nothing there. At least, I couldn’t see anything.”  
  
He got up and took down a well-thumbed copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. “The only animals with that power are Demiguises and they’re only found in the Far East, Ginny, not the wilds of Scotland. It could have been something very small that you couldn’t see from far away, you know.”  
  
“But she was _patting_ it and talking to it,” Ginny repeated.  
  
“Might be a kelpie, I suppose,” Professor Lupin said, flicking through the book. “But that doesn’t mean it would be invisible to you, just not exactly appealing.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Ginny. You’ll have to ask Hagrid. He knows far more about magical creatures than I do. He always did.” His lips twitched as he said this, as if it were a sort of joke, but Ginny had no idea what the joke was about, so she ignored it.  
  
“Is there anything about dogs in there?” she followed.  
  
“Dogs?” Now he really did look amused. “Only Crups, because they’re specifically magical. Why do you ask?”  
  
“I thought I saw one,” Ginny said, seeing it again in her mind, “on the edge of the forest. Back in September. Just after we had our first meeting. I looked out of my window and there it was. I know it was a dog,” she added. “It didn’t look anything like a wolf, but it was _huge_. And it looked so thin...” Her voice trailed off as she saw the expression on Lupin’s face. He had turned pale and his mouth was set in a thin straight line. But what shocked her was the look in his eyes: fear and anger and something that she couldn’t describe.  
  
He saw that she was shocked and turned away, putting the book back. “Have you told anyone else about this dog?” he asked, face still turned.  
  
“No. Why would I? I mean... well, I wondered if it might be the Grim,” she confessed. “But its eyes weren’t glowing at all.”  
  
“There are many animals in the forest,” Professor Lupin said, his voice hoarse. “I wouldn’t worry about a stray dog, Ginny. Nothing to be scared of.”  
  
Ginny nodded. She got up, thanked him for his time, and left the room, her stomach tight. She had never seen Professor Lupin look like that before. He was so calm, so controlled. He’d said it was just a stray dog. Nothing to be scared of. But he was scared. Ginny had seen it.  
  
Perhaps it had brought up bad memories, somehow. She knew how the smallest thing could open that black box in your mind, pulling you back into situations that you wanted to forget. Yes, that was probably it.  
  
All the same… Ginny stopped on the stairs to Gryffindor Tower and stared out of a wand slit. The Forbidden Forest stretched away before her, a dark blanket of trees. All its secrets hidden away under that silent canopy.  
  
“I am going to find out what’s going on,” Ginny said out loud, the resolve crystallising inside her like a pearl inside an oyster. Then she went back to the common room, thinking how she could use it.  
  
Meanwhile, life went on. The girls (and Neville) came out to see her at Quidditch practice. She still hadn’t made up her mind whether she’d train for Seeker or not. She wished she could discuss her forest plans with Hermione, but Hermione would certainly disapprove. At least they could talk about her lucid dreaming efforts. Hermione was fascinated by the books that Professor Lupin had given her, so Ginny brought them to the library. Hermione got to look at _Magical Dis-Eases_ while Ginny had the opportunity to flick through the dream section of _Unfogging the Future_. She noticed that this book wasn’t half as used as Hermione’s other textbooks. There were no notes in the margins, no pieces of paper marking interesting passages. In fact, it looked practically new.  
  
“I don’t know why you’re looking in there. Divination’s a load of rubbish,” Hermione muttered.  
  
Ginny looked up. She wondered if she was hallucinating. Hermione had never complained about a lesson before. Hermione had never complained about anything school-related before, not even Potions, where Professor Snape’s favouritism meant that all her good work went for nothing. She decided to be cautious. “What do you mean?”  
  
“I mean Professor Trelawney’s a fraud!” Hermione whispered, her nostrils flaring white. “She goes on and on about her wonderful Third Eye, which only states the obvious, and she’s always moaning about Harry and how he’s going to die – it’s not true, of course!” she added hastily, seeing the look on Ginny’s face and belatedly realising how this news might affect her. “She’s only saying it because Sirius Black’s loose.”  
  
Ginny didn’t reply. She found the Dream Symbolism section and began to read through it. Harry dying… It wouldn’t happen, Dumbledore wouldn’t let it happen! But Harry was so reckless, she thought with a sinking heart. He was out for every Quidditch practice and there was no way Oliver was going to tell him to stay inside. Nor could she appeal to Professor McGonagall... after all, she would be perfectly aware of the dangers. Ginny felt like flinging the book across the room; maybe she would have done so if they hadn’t been in the library.  
  
“How are Ron and Crookshanks getting on?” she asked, cutting off the beginning of Hermione’s fumbled apology. Just as she’d hoped, Hermione was immediately distracted.  
  
“Awful,” she said with a sigh of frustration. “He keeps insisting that Crookshanks goes after Scabbers _deliberately_, like it’s a personal vendetta. I mean, honestly! Crookshanks is a cat, they chase rodents, it’s normal.”  
  
Ginny thought of Crookshanks sitting outside the entrance to the boys’ dormitories and the look of disappointment he’d give her when she refused to open the door. While she didn’t think that Crookshanks had a vendetta against Scabbers, his behaviour was certainly not normal. But she wasn’t going to mention that to Hermione.  
  
“Look,” she began. “I’m not saying that Crookshanks is out to get Scabbers… but try and look at it from Ron’s point of view.”  
  
Hermione huffed, turning a page. “Which is?”  
  
Ginny’s patience frayed a little. “I would have thought you’d understand now that you’ve got a familiar of your own. Crookshanks may not be stalking him, but Scabbers is sick and that matters to Ron. Do you know what happened to Ron’s first pet?”  
  
Hermione looked at her, startled. “No... I didn’t realise he’d had a pet before Scabbers.”  
  
“Not surprising, given how _concerned_ you’ve been,” Ginny said acidly. “But for your information, he used to have this Puffskein called Custard. Custard was the first thing he’d ever had that was all his. Until the twins decided to use him for Bludger practice.” She looked down at the book again, satisfied that she’d made her point, found the dream entry for ‘Door’ and began to read it through.  
  
Red was the colour of danger, the colour of blood. A door symbolised an opportunity. Going through a door signified moving forwards, a willingness to let go. Ginny closed her eyes for a moment, sadness washing over her.  
  
“What is it?” Hermione asked anxiously. “Ginny? What’s wrong?”  
  
Ginny put the book on the table. “I’m afraid to move forward. I can’t trust anything.”  
  
“Well, that’s not surprising, is it?” Hermione said, raising her eyebrows. “I mean, it’s logical, considering what happened to you.”  
  
Ginny looked at her for a moment. “You don’t understand,” she said, taking her book out of Hermione’s hands and leaving the library before she started to cry. She dodged Peeves, who was lobbing stink bombs at anyone trying to leave the castle, and ran outside, swallowing her tears.  
  
“Ginny!”  
  
She stopped and looked. The twins were walking near the lake, just the two of them. Ginny wondered if she ought to go on running, but there wasn’t much point. They were faster and stronger than her and she was carrying her books. “Hello, Fred. Hello, George,” she said as they came up to her, trying to smile.  
  
“Who did it?” Fred demanded fiercely.  
  
“Did what?” She blinked at them.  
  
“You’re going to have to lie better than that.” George folded his arms. “You’re on the verge of tears and you never cry. So, out with it. Who did it?”  
  
“Because if somebody’s hurt our little sister, that somebody is going to regret it with every single bone in their body.” Fred had folded his arms as well. They were both bristling with indignation.  
  
Ginny laughed, high and thin, and brushed her eyes, just to make sure that they were still dry. “Nobody’s hurt me, Hermione and I just had a bit of a fight.”  
  
Both the twins looked oddly deflated. Ginny knew they had been hoping it was someone bigger and preferably male. They knew that if they tried to do anything to Hermione, they’d have Ron, Harry _and_ Percy on their backs. She giggled.  
  
“Don’t look so disappointed. And don’t worry. I’m fine. She didn’t mean it. I was just going to visit Hagrid.”  
  
“With books?” George repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Call me a sceptic, sister of mine – ”  
  
“But Hagrid doesn’t have much use for books,” Fred agreed. “So what are you really up to?”  
  
“Professor Lupin gave me these books,” Ginny said, lifting her chin and thinking quickly. She certainly wasn’t going to tell Fred and George about her idea of going into the Forbidden Forest. They got funny when she tried to do anything dangerous.  
  
“Very nice, but why?” Fred gasped. “Don’t tell me that our little sister is… actually… taking on extra homework?!” He collapsed against George’s shoulder. “George! Percy’s rubbed off on her! What are we going to do?!”  
  
George patted him manfully on the back. “Now, now, Fred. This is serious, but we’ve still got time. After all, she’s only twelve, we’ve got years to turn her round.”  
  
“But I thought we were doing so _well_,” Fred said mournfully, gazing at Ginny with dark, tragic eyes. “Oh Ginny, Ginny... how could you do this to us?”  
  
Ginny almost stamped her foot, but that would have only made things worse. “It _isn’t_ homework. If you really must know, it’s about what happened to me last year!” There, she’d done it. She’d killed their joke. They were no longer play acting, no longer even smiling. “Professor Lupin’s helping me to put last year behind me and these books are part of that. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to visit Hagrid. I’ll see you at dinner.” She turned on her heel and marched off, refusing to feel sorry about what she’d said. They had to know when to stop and if she had to play dirty, well, at least they’d know how it felt. So what if Percy sucked up to the teachers? At least he’d tried to find out what was wrong with her.  
  
Hagrid’s hut was empty and he wasn’t in his pumpkin patch. Ginny waved to Buckbeak as he raised his head. “Where’s he gone?” she asked, not coming too close, wondering what the Hippogriff would do. Buckbeak looked at her for a moment, his eyes yellow and fierce, and Ginny shivered. Then he flicked his head towards the Forbidden Forest and laid it down again. “Thank you,” Ginny said, and hurried off. The forest reared up in front of her before she was properly aware of how fast she was walking.  
  
Ginny paused and looked around. There was nobody to see her, nobody to stop her. She looked into the forest. It was late afternoon. Amber glistened on the tree trunks. Hugging the books to her chest, she stepped inside and held her breath. Nothing happened. She’d almost expected to trigger an alarm of some sort but everything was quiet and peaceful.  
  
Relieved, Ginny set off along the path. Hagrid couldn’t be far, and she would certainly be able to hear him when she got nearer. She could smell the amber and the pine needles that crunched under her feet. As she went further in, the pine gave way to deciduous trees, along with bracken and brambles curling around the trunks. Ginny stopped in a clearing and looked around. The path led off in three directions and she had no idea which one Hagrid had taken, and no way of contacting him. She sighed and looked around. _Great. You might as well go back._  
  
Then something moved on the path to her left. Ginny put down the books, gripped her wand and moved forward quietly, trying to get a better look. The trees were so thick that it was difficult for any sunlight to get through here, leaving most of the path in a mossy gloom. Not very useful if you were trying to see more than five metres ahead of you. She took about five steps forward and then stopped abruptly.  
  
The first clue was the shining white of its coat, the second the pale horn that rose above its forehead like a cathedral spire. The unicorn turned its head and looked at her with one dark eye. Its nostrils flared and it snorted, flicking its long tail. Ginny saw that its hooves were not smooth like a horse’s, but cloven, like deer or goat’s feet. Her chest began to hurt and she realised that she’d been holding her breath. She let it out in one long sigh. Her heart was pounding like a drum, even though she wasn’t scared. It wasn’t fear she felt, but something else. She kept expecting it to turn and move, to disappear like lightning among the trees. But it stayed. It stood there and watched her and her heart pounded faster. She wanted it to go and she wanted it to stay, stay like this forever so she could just look at it.  
  
Ginny had never been sentimental about horses. She’d always preferred cats and dogs, domestic animals. Yet here she was, holding her breath, transfixed. Her vision blurred because she was staring so hard and she blinked, then realised that her cheeks were wet.  
  
Then the unicorn moved. It turned and came towards her and Ginny almost fell over in shock. “No,” she whispered. “Don’t... don’t come near me... you don’t want to...” She didn’t know what she was saying. She only knew that a creature like this should not be near her. Not after what had happened. And it was still coming, closer and closer. Ginny felt more tears run down her face but she couldn’t take her eyes off the unicorn. Anybody could have come along, even Harry, and she wouldn’t have noticed.  
  
The unicorn came right up to her and then stopped, its ears flicking this way and that as it smelled her. Ginny swallowed and reached up to brush at her cheeks. The unicorn stretched its neck out and breathed warm air on her face. Ginny closed her eyes for a moment. “Hello,” she whispered, opening them again and reaching out with one hand, holding her breath once more. The unicorn shivered when she touched its neck, but it didn’t move.  
  
“Why don’t you run away?” Ginny said hopelessly, running the other hand down the long nose to the soft muzzle. “Why can’t you see I’m not what you think? I’m corrupted...” She sagged a little, resting her forehead on the unicorn’s brow, just below the horn. It smelled of grass, good and clean and somehow reassuring. Ginny felt as if someone had put their arms around her, as if she was protected by some great invisible force. It was all nonsense but the feeling was so strong that she couldn’t help smiling.  
  
Then there was a rustle to her left. The unicorn pulled away, its eyes rolling, and then another creature stepped onto the path. A centaur. Ginny wondered for a moment if she was dreaming. She’d never been interested in any horses before, now all of a sudden she was standing with a unicorn and looking at a centaur. “Um,” she said, blinking. For once in her life, she had no idea what to say.  
  
The centaur looked at the unicorn and his eyes softened. “Go,” he said. “I will make sure she returns safely.”  
  
Ginny turned to say goodbye but the unicorn had already gone, as silently as it had come. There was just a flash of white among the trees to let her know it had been there. She put her hands to her face and rubbed the tears away, feeling strangely drained.  
  
The centaur was looking at her with unreadable eyes. Although he had blond hair and a palomino body, he seemed dull and ordinary after the unicorn. “You are a relative of the Weasley twins,” he said, a statement, not a question.  
  
Ginny nodded, before realising that it might not be a good idea to do so. “I’m their sister.”  
  
“Your brothers often come in here. Looking for plants and mushrooms to feed their experiments – at least, that is what they tell me,” said the centaur. “Are you in here for the same reason?”  
  
Ginny shook her head. “I was just looking for Hagrid.”  
  
“Did he ask you to come find him?”  
  
Ginny had to look away. “No.”  
  
“Do you know which path he took?”  
  
Ginny gritted her teeth. “No.”  
  
“Then what are you doing here on this one?”  
  
“I saw the unicorn and I...”  
  
“You are lucky it was a unicorn. There are far more dangerous things living here, things you would have met if you’d continued down this path. She was worried about you. I do not usually interfere in the affairs of humans but I promised her I would keep you safe.”  
  
“That really isn’t necessary,” Ginny said, looking down. “I just need to talk to Hagrid.”  
  
“I will escort you out of the forest and then I will tell him you are here. It is not wise to linger here alone, even in the daylight.” And he turned, walking back the way she had come. Ginny had no choice but to pick up her books and follow him, although she would have liked to sit down and absorb what had just happened. The centaur did not look back to check on her. He just kept moving forward with that same stately pace which made Ginny feel strange and ungainly. They did not stop until they were on the edge of the forest.  
  
“Wait here.” And the centaur turned and leapt back into the forest with one push of his powerful back legs. Ginny watched him disappear and let out a breath. She went back to the pumpkin patch and sat down on the low stone wall that surrounded it, staring into space.  
  
Unlike the centaur and the unicorn, Hagrid’s arrival was audible. Ginny could hear the crashing and crackling of undergrowth for some minutes before his bulky figure appeared. She stood up and opened her mouth, but didn’t have time to actually speak.  
  
“What were yeh doin’?” Hagrid roared, sending a shiver down her spine as he emerged into the clearing. “What possessed yeh to come in?! Don’t yeh know how dangerous it is?!”  
  
“I wanted to talk to you,” Ginny said, feeling as if she were speaking into a storm wind.  
  
“Yer lucky it was Firenze who found yeh, and not another centaur!” Hagrid snapped, pacing about. “Who knows what the others would have done! Oh, I’m not saying they’d have _hurt_ yeh – they don’t hurt children – but they’d have made it clear yeh weren’t welcome!”  
  
“I just wanted to talk to you,” Ginny repeated. She couldn’t fight or argue. There was no anger left in her. The unicorn had taken it.  
  
“Then yeh should have waited here!” Hagrid stopped and shook his head. “Yer a clever girl, Ginny, yeh know the rules. Is this because of yer brothers?”  
  
“No,” Ginny said with a sigh. “And I don’t understand why it’s okay for them to break all these rules, but when I do it, it’s unforgivable.”  
  
Hagrid shook his head. “Yer brothers always had each other. Yeh went in _alone_. Never do that. Never ever do that. And secondly...” He looked at her now, his eyes begging her to understand. “Yer the youngest and the only girl, Ginny. Yeh know better than me why it’s different for yeh. And more than that... after what happened to yeh last year, do yeh really want yer parents finding out that yeh’ve been gallivantin’ about the forest? And lookin’ fer _me_.” He looked miserable. “I’m always happy to see yeh, but if anyone found out that you’d been lookin’ fer me in _here_... I’m responsible for yeh, Ginny. I’m a teacher now. If yeh got hurt because of me...”  
  
Ginny drew a breath and looked down. She hadn’t thought of that. She hadn’t thought that it would reflect badly on Hagrid if anyone found out that she was looking for him in this place. “I’m sorry, Hagrid,” she whispered. “I didn’t think, I just wanted to ask you something...”  
  
“Well, I’m here now. Let’s have a cup o’ tea.” He put an arm around her shoulders and led her inside, greeting a happy Fang, who left drool all over Ginny’s hands in greeting. “Now,” Hagrid said, putting the kettle on the fire, “what’s this question?”  
  
“When I was here with Esmé, I saw Luna Lovegood... _in the forest_,” Ginny added, giving Hagrid a look. “And she was talking to something that wasn’t there. She was in there alone. Wasn’t she in danger?”  
  
Hagrid put some tea in his teapot and arranged the sugar bowl. “Jus’ because yeh can’t see somethin’, doesn’t mean it’s not there,” he said gruffly. “She wasn’t alone. I knew she was there. She comes down here sometimes, jus’ like yeh do... for a visit, like. And to see the herd.”  
  
“Herd? You mean the centaurs? But I would have seen a centaur!” Ginny said, folding her arms.  
  
“Did I say ‘centaurs’? I don’t remember sayin’ ‘centaurs’,” Hagrid said, deliberately obtuse. “I said ‘herd’. Plenty of animals live in herds. Luna’s not in any danger, if tha’s what yer worried about.”  
  
Ginny sighed. “I’m not worried, I just wondered... what kind of animal would be invisible like that.”  
  
“The kind of animal yeh don’t want to learn to see,” Hagrid said, taking the kettle off as it started to whistle. “Trust me, Ginny. Yeh don’t want to know. Not before yeh have to.” He would say no more, beyond telling Ginny that she shouldn’t ask Luna, either. If Luna wanted to tell her, she would tell her. Otherwise, it wasn’t Ginny’s business. Ginny was so frustrated that she forgot to ask about the big black dog and went back to the common room. She found that all three of her dormmates were waiting for her. Esmé looked irritated.  
  
“Where _were_ you, Ginny? We went to the library and Hermione said you’d gone to see Hagrid. But his hut was empty and you were nowhere in sight!”  
  
“Sorry, Esmé, didn’t realise that I had to keep you updated,” Ginny said dryly.  
  
“Ginny... the last time you disappeared...” Rowena took a breath. “The last time you disappeared like that, we found out you’d been taken into the Chamber. We all felt so bad that we hadn’t seen you disappear. And so when we couldn’t find you, we thought something else had happened to you, something bad.” She bit her lip.  
  
Ginny felt all the breath go out of her. “I’m such a thoughtless cow,” she said, sinking into the chair they’d kept empty for her.  
  
“Hey, I wouldn’t go that far,” Catharine protested. “I mean, it’s not like you were thinking of us, whatever happened to you.”  
  
Ginny shook her head. “But I should have thought of it... I’m sorry... I didn’t mean to worry you. If you really want to know where I was, I’ll tell you. But not here. In the dormitory.”  
  
That piqued their curiosity, of course, and they all followed her up the staircase. Ginny closed the dormitory door tightly and drew them around the hearth, where the fire was laid ready for the evening. They all sat down, eyes fixed on her, bright and expectant.  
  
“I did go and see Hagrid,” she said. “Hermione wasn’t lying. But when I saw that he wasn’t in his hut... I went into the forest.”  
  
“You didn’t!” Catharine said, her eyes wide.  
  
Ginny nodded.  
  
“But – but the forest’s _forbidden_,” Rowena whispered. “There’s all sorts of monsters in there.”  
  
“I didn’t see any monsters,” Ginny told her. “Actually, it was quite nice in there.”  
  
“‘Nice’?” Catharine repeated, wrinkling her nose. “What’s nice about a dark, creepy forest full of who knows what?”  
  
“It wasn’t dark when I went in there, and it was very peaceful and quiet. But I did meet something.”  
  
“A unicorn?” Esmé asked, leaning forward. Ginny hesitated for a moment. She knew that Esmé would be so excited to hear about the unicorn but she didn’t want to tell her. She wanted to keep the unicorn for herself.  
  
“No, sorry. No unicorns. But I did meet a centaur.”  
  
Rowena and Esmé shrieked in disbelief, but Catharine looked puzzled. “What’s a centaur?”  
  
“It has a horse’s legs and body and tail, but a man or woman’s upper body,” Esmé told her.  
  
“Oh! I’ve seen pictures of them, we studied Ancient Greece in primary school, but I thought they were just myths,” Catharine said, turning to look at the window as if she expected one to leap through at any moment.  
  
“That’s what the Ministry needs the Muggles to think, so they don’t go poking about and upsetting them,” Esmé explained. “Centaurs are very private creatures.” She looked back at Ginny, lit up by this new information. “So there’s a herd in our forest. Makes sense. I’m surprised it spoke to you, Ginny.”  
  
“He said that he didn’t usually interfere with humans,” Ginny admitted. “But he knew where Hagrid was, so he went to get him. Apparently, his name’s Firenze.”  
  
“Is he lush?” Catharine wanted to know.  
  
“CATHARINE!” they all shouted.  
  
“For God’s sake, Catharine, he’s half horse,” Rowena said, making a face.  
  
“It was just a _question_, God, don’t get so antsy,” Catharine sniffed.  
  
“I wasn’t exactly checking him out. He scared me a bit,” Ginny said, blushing slightly. “I mean, he really was massive. Not as big as Buckbeak, but as big as a cart horse.”  
  
“Yeah, but you’re small,” Rowena said thoughtfully. “So he might not be that big, really.”  
  
“Hang on,” Catharine said, waving a hand. “You said that centaurs have the top half of a woman or man.”  
  
They all nodded.  
  
“Was this Fureasy —”  
  
_“Firenze—”_  
  
“Yeah, him, was he wearing any clothes?”  
  
“Of course not,” Ginny said, rolling her eyes. “They don’t need clothes, they’ve got their horse coats to keep them warm.”  
  
“So, if the women go about bare-chested like the men, doesn’t that mean their boobs bounce about all the time?”  
  
For a moment, Ginny, Esmé and Rowena were speechless. Now they were all thinking about female centaurs with bouncing breasts.  
  
“Well, I s’pose so, yes,” Esmé said, shaking her head and trying to think of something else.  
  
“EURGH!” Catharine looked revolted. “They’ll be just like the women on the National Geographic covers that my brother gets: their boobs are down to their bellies, I’m telling you! It’s disgusting! Why doesn’t he just get a tabloid and look at page three?!”  
  
“P-page three?” Ginny repeated, feeling a huge bubble of laughter building up in her chest.  
  
“Don’t you have page three here? On page three of the Muggle tabloid newspapers, there’s always a girl who has her top off.”  
  
“W-why?” Rowena spluttered.  
  
Catharine shrugged. “To get men to buy them, o’ course. And they get paid loads of money for it.”  
  
“I’m so glad I’m not a Muggle,” Esmé said, and then finally the laughter broke. They rolled on the floor, helpless and gasping for air. It was a long time before any of them could manage to say more than two words without collapsing into laughter again.  
  
“I can’t believe you went in there on your own, Ginny,” Rowena panted as they all sat up, holding their aching stomachs. “I wouldn’t dare!”  
  
“I would!” Esmé was obviously inspired by the thought of Firenze. “I bet there are all sorts of amazing things in there.”  
  
“Amazing!” Catharine snorted. “Appalling’s more like it. I wouldn’t go in there for all the tea in China.”  
  
Rowena shuddered and nodded in agreement. “Besides, we shouldn’t be wandering around the grounds at the moment anyway!” she pointed out. “What if you run into a Dementor, Ginny? What if you run into _Sirius Black_? The Forbidden Forest is the perfect place for him to hide!”  
  
“In there? Why would anyone want to hide in there?” Catharine said in disbelief, looking out of the window.  
  
“Because of what you just said, because nobody would think to look in there. Anyway, the forest must be like a five-star hotel after Azkaban,” Rowena said, shivering for an entirely different reason.  
  
“Oh, stop worrying,” Ginny said, hugging her around the shoulders. “Sirius Black hasn’t been seen for months.”  
  
“All the more reason for you to be careful!”  
  
Esmé leaned over as Ginny tried to calm Rowena down. “If you want to go in there again, let me know, okay? You shouldn’t go in there alone, and I’m not afraid.”  
  
Ginny nodded, feeling a little better that next time, she might have someone accompanying her. She couldn’t wait to explore more. Perhaps she would even see another unicorn, although one was more than enough.  
  
Then Harry began to distract her (not that this was anything new). He was looking miserable, and Ginny couldn’t work out why: Quidditch practices were going extremely well, there had been no sightings of Sirius Black and Hagrid was still teaching. It was Ron who told her what was wrong: Harry’s awful relatives had not signed his permission form, so he couldn’t go to Hogsmeade on Halloween.  
  
“But what about McGonagall?” Ginny asked, making sure that Harry couldn’t hear her. He was poking a lamb chop with his fork, his eyelids half lowered in obvious depression.  
  
Ron shrugged. “That’s what I said, but she wouldn’t sign it. He asked at the end of our Transfiguration lesson and she said that she wasn’t his relative or his guardian, so she couldn’t. Stubborn cow. He spends more time here than he does at that so-called ‘home’, she’s our Head of House, so she’s basically his guardian.”  
  
“But not in a legal sense,” Ginny said sadly. “If Harry got injured, his relatives could sue the school.”  
  
Ron snorted. “They wouldn’t care. They wouldn’t even know how to get in touch, let alone sue.”  
  
This was undeniable, but they both knew that once McGonagall had made up her mind, there was no point in arguing. As Halloween drew nearer, Harry looked worse and worse. Ginny found herself longing to invite him to spend the day with her and her friends, but each time she tried to walk up to him and say something, her throat would swell and her cheeks would burn, and she’d end up in the toilets, splashing water on her face and cursing her fair skin. _Forget Harry, I’m never going to have a boyfriend at all if I keep reacting like this,_ she thought.  
  
“I could invite him,” Catharine said when Ginny complained about her handicap.  
  
Ginny grabbed her arm. “No! No, please, Catharine, don’t do that! I couldn’t bear it. I just couldn’t...” She could feel her face going red all over again at the thought.  
  
Catharine rolled her eyes. “All right, all right! Don’t make a fuss, I was just saying!”  
  
“It wouldn’t mean as much coming from one of us,” Rowena said, turning her piece of parchment over so that she could continue her sentence. “And besides... I doubt that spending the day with us would make it better. No offence, Ginny.”  
  
“None taken,” Ginny said, staring at her textbook and seeing a pair of emerald green eyes instead. Her heart squeezed painfully in longing, and she rested her head on her folded arms, letting out a sigh. The others began to talk of something else, knowing that the subject was closed.  
  
They all spent Halloween outside in the grounds, because Catharine had heard that the Ravenclaw boy she fancied was going to be walking there with his friends. Ginny went because anything was better than watching the portrait hole for Harry. She ended up enjoying herself: the Ravenclaw boys were a little snobbish, but that made it all the more fun to catch them out. Rowena hung back shyly but Esmé joined her in teasing them. Catharine frowned at them occasionally but they both ignored her. The price for this was listening to her complain about their behaviour all the way back to the castle.  
  
“You’re _never_ going to get boyfriends if you act like that!” she finished.  
  
Ginny rolled her eyes. “You sound like my mother, Catharine. ‘Don’t be such a tomboy, Ginny, the boys won’t like it.’ Please.”  
  
“And what if we don’t want boyfriends?” said Esmé, with a challenging stare. “It isn’t the be-all and end-all of life. Not in our world, anyway.”  
  
“What do you mean our world?!” Catharine demanded. “I’m a witch, too!”  
  
“Oh, please don’t fight,” begged Rowena. “It’s Halloween, we’re supposed to have fun. Esmé just meant that you have more options, Catharine. There’s no need to act like marriage is the only thing you can do.”  
  
Catharine pushed out her lower lip but said nothing. Ginny had mixed emotions. On the one hand, she didn’t like Catharine’s implication that you had to behave a certain way to have a boyfriend; on the other, she didn’t like the implication that being a housewife was a bad thing. Her mother was a housewife and proud of it.  
  
The quarrel was forgotten when they entered the Great Hall. As usual, the decoration was spectacular: candle-filled jack o’ lanterns were floating around the room, making everything seem slightly orange; orange streamers had been set on fire and were now dancing through the air like decorative comets; the ceiling was full of stormy, flashing clouds (of course, that wasn’t planned but it still looked good); bats were fluttering from one side of the hall to the other. Nobody was sure if they’d been conjured or if one of the teachers had simply ‘herded’ them inside.  
  
Ginny sat down, drinking it all in, even happier for the knowledge that she was going to remember all of it. The memory of last year’s Halloween was cut abruptly in half: it began with a feast like this one and ended with cat hairs on her robes and a wild sense of panic. She glanced up the table: Harry seemed happier now that the day was over. Ron and Hermione were obviously still telling him about Hogsmeade. Ginny let out a sigh of relief and dug into the goulash in front of her, savouring the paprika and the chunks of beef that melted on her tongue. She loved Mum’s cooking, but it was a bit traditional. At least the house elves branched out sometimes.  
  
“I don’t know where you put it,” Rowena said enviously as Ginny had her second helping of mashed potato.  
  
“Rowena, when you have six older brothers, you learn to eat as much as possible,” Ginny told her with a grin.  
  
“You learn it with just one older brother,” Catharine retorted, soaking up the sauce with a piece of bread. “Our Martin’s a right pig. Thinks he owns the fridge – that’s a machine we use to keep the food cold,” she explained as an afterthought.  
  
“Oh, a refrigerator, my dad’s always going on about those,” Ginny said, rolling her eyes.  
  
“Why’s that, then?” Catharine asked, puzzled.  
  
“Oh, he’s just fascinated with Muggle machinery, especially anything that involves eckel… electricity,” Ginny said, remembering how Hermione had pronounced it. “He’s got a massive plug collection.”  
  
“Oh.” Catharine looked a bit embarrassed. “Is he… all there?”  
  
“Most of the time,” Ginny said seriously. “But he does tend to pop off.” She spotted Luna and waved at her. Luna raised a hand and waved back with a benign smile. Ginny wondered for a moment if Luna had forgotten her, but when Luna drifted over to say hello, she seemed to remember Ginny’s name perfectly well, and she also remembered Rowena, Esmé and Catharine from Defence Against the Dark Arts.  
  
“The Grey Lady said the ghosts were going to do something because it’s Halloween,” she said. “I wonder if they’re going to have an invisible food fight like they did last year, that was fun.”  
  
“No, it wasn’t,” Catharine said with a pout. “I got steak and kidney pie in my hair, took me ages to wash that out.”  
  
Just then, Nearly Headless Nick’s head popped up from the table and they all jumped, Catharine and Rowena screaming. Ginny and Esmé looked at each other and grinned. Luna simply took a deep breath and widened her eyes.  
  
“Do you _have_ to do that?” Catharine complained.  
  
“Good evening, Miss Watson, so glad to see you’re enjoying yourself,” Nick answered with supreme dignity as the rest of his body appeared. He squinted at Luna. “You’re not one of mine, are you?”  
  
“Oh no, I’m from Ravenclaw,” Luna told him seriously.  
  
“That’s all right, then,” Nick said, looking relieved. “Thought I was losing my memory then, had no idea what your name was.”  
  
“This is Luna Lovegood, Nick,” Ginny said and Luna waved, although Nick was only a few inches from her.  
  
“Sir Nicholas Mimsy de Porpington,” Nick said, making a deep bow, with the inevitable result that his head tipped over and nearly landed in the pumpkin pasties.  
  
“Or Nearly Headless Nick, as we call him,” Esmé said with a mischievous grin.  
  
Luna was staring at Nick with great interest as he pulled his head back on properly with an aggrieved expression. She did not seem to be at all put off by what had just happened, unlike Catharine and Rowena, who both looked a bit sick.  
  
“Is it okay if she sits with us, Nick?” Ginny asked, in order to avert the question Luna was dying to ask.  
  
“Yes, yes; if you’ll excuse me, I must go and find my position,” Nick said, patting his ruffle, and he floated off without another word. Luna watched him go and sighed.  
  
“You’re so lucky,” she said. “The Grey Lady never does anything like that. She just borrows our books without asking and stares over our shoulders if we don’t do our homework so you get these horrible cold shivers down your back.”  
  
“Lucky?” Catharine muttered. “If that’s ‘lucky’, what does she call ‘unlucky’?”  
  
“Shh,” Rowena said, “the ghosts are starting.”  
  
The house ghosts (and the ones which didn’t belong to any particular house) were flying around in the formation of a flower. This changed to a bird, then a cauldron, and finally, the most complicated form: a dragon. Everyone clapped and then Nick floated to the middle of the floor and began to sing a song about why he hadn’t been properly beheaded. Despite the macabre subject, he did the different voices and enacted the whole thing so brilliantly that they couldn’t help laughing at him. He got lots of whistles at the end and the whole of Gryffindor table gave him a standing ovation. Luna stood up as well. Ginny noticed that the Ravenclaw table were giving her odd looks: some of them looked insulted, some of them looked almost gleeful, as if they were saving this up for later. Ginny wished that she could go back with Luna to her common room and make sure that she was okay, but it wasn’t allowed. The feast ended late, so they all had to return to their common rooms immediately. Luna said goodbye to all of them and went back to her own house. Ginny stared after her, heart twisting, wondering how Luna would spend the rest of her night: ignored? Teased?  
  
“You know, she’s not at all bad, once you get to know her,” Rowena said thoughtfully, as they walked up the stairs.  
  
“I wouldn’t like to share a dormitory with her,” said Catharine bluntly. “She’d always be doing weird stuff.”  
  
“She may be eccentric, but she doesn’t have a malicious bone in her body, unlike some,” Esmé said, giving Catharine a look.  
  
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Catharine demanded. “If you’ve got something to say, Esmé Crosse, just say it to my face!”  
  
“Only if you think you can handle it!” Esmé snapped back, her eyes lit up at the prospect of battle.  
  
“No, don’t,” Rowena wailed as they squared up to each other. “We’ll get in trouble!”  
  
“Oh, why don’t you just shut your gob?” Catharine snapped. “If you’re so worried, you can run ahead and get to bed, like a good little girl!”  
  
“Nobody’s going to do that because nobody’s going into the common room,” Ginny said loudly, frowning. The other three stopped fighting and looked around. The corridor was completely full of people who should have been through the portrait hole by now. Stranger still, they were all quiet. The atmosphere made Ginny’s skin prickle. “Hang on, let me see if I can find Ron, he’ll be able to see what’s going on,” she said and began to push through the crowd. She could see her brother’s red head quite clearly, although it took a while to get to him, because people weren’t always willing to move for her. Thank goodness for sharp elbows.  
  
“What’s going on?” she demanded as she finally got through the last two people.  
  
“Percy’s just told someone to go and get Professor Dumbledore,” said Hermione in a low voice, looking at her with worried eyes. “He sounded...”  
  
“Shocked,” Ron said, his face very serious. “Something bad’s happened.”  
  
Then the crowd parted to let Dumbledore through and Ginny followed Ron, Hermione and Harry to get a closer look so she could report back to the girls. The next moment, she almost wished she hadn’t. She heard Hermione gasp and Ron make a strangled noise in his throat, but all she could see was the Fat Lady’s portrait: it had been vandalised. The portrait hadn’t just been slashed, but ripped apart, so that the wall showed through some of the holes. Slices of canvas were curling on the carpet. The Fat Lady was nowhere to be seen.  
  
Professor Dumbledore turned and began to speak and Ginny saw that Professor Snape, Professor Lupin and Professor McGonagall had arrived. She could hear Dumbledore telling them to find the Fat Lady through the strange ringing in her ears.  
  
“You’ll be lucky,” said a voice above her head, maliciously amused, and the sound kicked back in. Ginny looked up, even though she knew who it was: Peeves. He was hovering over the crowd and grinning to himself, glorying in the atmosphere.  
  
“What do you mean, Peeves?” Dumbledore asked, his voice perfectly steady.  
  
Peeves didn’t dare taunt Dumbledore. Ginny was glad to see his grin fade but somehow the expression of mock sadness that replaced it was even worse. “Ashamed, Your Headship, sir. Doesn’t want to be seen,” he explained in a voice that made Ginny’s skin crawl. “Saw her running through the landscape up on the fourth floor, sir, dodging between the trees. Crying something dreadful. Poor thing,” he added, but the satisfaction in his voice was so thick that nobody believed him.  
  
“Did she say who did it?” asked Dumbledore, who remained admirably calm. Ginny wanted to throw something at Peeves, preferably a large Dungbomb.  
  
“Oh yes, Professorhead,” Peeves assured him, his old grin slipping back onto his face. “He got very angry when she wouldn’t let him in, you see.”  
  
_He?_ Ginny thought.  
  
Peeves flipped over, looking at Dumbledore through his own ankles. “Nasty temper he’s got, that Sirius Black.”  
  
There was a dead silence for a moment. Ginny felt all the breath leave her body and found herself looking at Harry. His face was white, his lips parted in shock. Then there was an explosion of sound as everyone began to panic. Ginny looked at the ruined portrait. _How are we going to get back inside?_ she thought.  
  
Dumbledore turned and held up his hands. “Silence!” he said, his voice ringing, and everyone stopped talking. “There is no need to panic. Professor McGonagall will take you all back down to the Great Hall, where you will be spending the night. I must ask you to do exactly as the Prefects tell you and not to go wandering for any reason.”  
  
They were put into a long crocodile and went back to the Hall. Ginny found the girls and told them everything she’d seen. They’d forgotten their fight in the shock of the moment.  
  
“I knew it,” Rowena babbled, “I knew it! He was hiding in the Forbidden Forest, just waiting for his moment –”  
  
“What, when we were all in the Great Hall, eating?” Catharine said, looking shaken but obviously making an effort to hold herself together. “Come off it, Rowena. He must know it’s Halloween...”  
  
“He’s probably lost track of time, given how long he’s been on the run,” Esmé said quietly. “Besides, he’s crazy... look at what he did to the Fat Lady.”  
  
The other three houses joined them then, all looking very confused. Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick began to close all the doors into the Hall except for the Great Doors at the furthest end, which was where Professor Dumbledore was standing.  
  
“The teachers and I need to conduct a thorough search of the castle,” he announced. “I’m afraid that, for your own safety, you will have to spend the night here. I want the Prefects to stand guard over the entrances to the Hall and I am leaving the Head Boy and Girl in charge. Any disturbance should be reported to me immediately,” he told Percy, who was almost bursting with pride. “Send word with one of the ghosts.” As he was about to leave the Hall, he turned with a small smile. “Oh, yes, you’ll be needing…” He waved his wand twice: one flick sent the dining tables to the side; the next produced hundreds of fluffy purple sleeping bags. “Sleep well,” he finished and closed the door behind him.  
  
The Hall immediately filled with chatter as the Gryffindors began to tell the others what had happened. Luna led all the Ravenclaw second years over to Ginny, who told her story about ten times before the Ravenclaw prefects arrived to chase them back to bed.  
  
“You can sleep with us, if you want,” Ginny said to Luna in a low voice.  
  
Luna shook her head. “If one of us is missing, they’ll panic.” She gazed up at the ceiling, which had stopped thundering. The clouds were clearing, allowing the stars to peep through. “I hope the lightning doesn’t come back. It’ll make it difficult to sleep.”  
  
“Lights out in ten minutes!” Percy shouted, marching about among the sleeping bags. “Into your sleeping bags, come on, all of you, bed!”  
  
“My God, this is almost as bad as being at home,” Ginny muttered to Catharine, who giggled as she snuggled into her sleeping bag.  
  
“Ah, these are nice,” she sighed. “And they smell good, too.”  
  
Ginny looked around for a moment but she couldn’t see Harry. Deep inside, she’d been wondering if she could drag her sleeping bag close to his, but it didn’t look like that was going to happen. Oh well. She put her head down (the pillow of the sleeping bag was soft and smelled of lavender) and closed her eyes, listening to the other girls whisper about who’d replace the Fat Lady. She didn’t want to talk about that. It made her think of the ruined canvas, the wall gazing blankly through the tears…  
  
And there she was, standing in the clearing in the Forbidden Forest, moonlight shining down on her. No dusty hallway, no terrifying door, just shadows and light. Something emerged out of the darkness and Ginny caught her breath. It was the unicorn, looking at her expectantly.  
  
What are you doing here? she asked, walking forward. She didn’t feel the same awe as before, just happiness and gratitude that it was here. The unicorn seemed to feel the same way, for it lowered its muzzle into her hand, nuzzling her gently.  
  
There was a low bark and she looked up to see the dog standing beyond them. Although she had only seen the animal once, from far away, Ginny was not surprised that he seemed so distinct. He had the body and height of a wolfhound, but the head of a border collie, with big alert ears and wide pale eyes that were almost the same colour as the moonlight. His coat was of a piece with the shadows, although she could see enough to know that it was thick and shaggy, like the wolfhound part of him. He looked at her for a moment, then turned and trotted away. The unicorn nudged her shoulder, pushing her forward and Ginny followed without thinking.  
  
It seemed they walked for a long time, the path uneven and often obscured by tree roots. She could see flowers on either side of her, but if she ever hesitated to pick some, she would feel the unicorn nudge the small of her back, its horn gently pressing between her shoulder blades like an extra finger. The dog had melted into the darkness, so she relied on the unicorn to let her know where they were going. Then they came into another clearing and Ginny stopped dead.  
  
The door was there. Somehow the door was in the centre of the Forbidden Forest, with nothing around it. She looked around, panicked, but the path had disappeared. The unicorn moved forward and turned its head, looking at her expectantly. Ginny shook her head.  
  
_I can’t do it,_ she whispered. _I don’t want to go through._  
  
“You’ve already gone through,” said a familiar voice and she looked around to see that a wolf was sitting on one side of the door, its grey coat flecked with brown. It had Professor Lupin’s voice and his calm brown gaze. “I told you before, Ginny, you have to make the choice. You have to do this on your own terms.”  
  
Ginny saw that the dog was sitting on the other side of the door, as if it were the counterpart to the wolf. Its eyes were on her, alert and expectant, just like the unicorn’s. Ginny hugged herself and saw that she was wearing a red cloak, red as blood against the black of the trees and the white of her skin. There was a knock on the door from the other side, a voice calling her name.  
  
_What big ears you have,_ she whispered.  
  
All the better to hear you with.  
  
_What big eyes you have,_ she whispered.  
  
All the better to see you with.  
  
_What big hands you have,_ she whispered.  
  
All the better to hold you with.  
  
She knew what came next, but she wouldn’t say it. She wasn’t going to fall for it, not like the girl in the book, not like the girl of last year. She was stronger than them. She was smarter. The latch of the door rattled and she jumped, but the anger was stronger than the fear.  
  
_I won’t be eaten! I won’t! You can’t eat me again._ She walked forward to the door, fists clenched. _This is my dream. MINE. You can’t have it! You can’t have me! I WON’T LET YOU, TOM RIDDLE!_  
  
She put her hand on the latch, pressed down and pulled the door open with a wrench, heart pounding. A wind rushed out at her but she pressed herself against it and stepped through into darkness. She felt the ground disappear beneath her feet and she was falling, falling...  
  
Jerking awake to stare into a pale blue morning sky. For a moment, Ginny thought she really had gone to sleep in the forest and woken up there. Then she remembered: Halloween, Sirius Black, sleeping in the Hall. She remembered her dream. She remembered what had happened.  
  
She was through the door.  
  
Ginny threw her hands up to the sky and laughed out loud. She couldn’t wait to tell Professor Lupin.


	5. PART FIVE: Teeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: PG-13 for swearing, female menstruation and emotional distress

PART FIVE: Teeth

\---------------------------------------------------  
“Grandma, what big teeth you have.”

“All the better to eat you with, my dear.”  
\---------------------------------------------------

Ginny couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt like this: it wasn’t just the happiness, it was the knowledge that she would never be in that corridor again, never feel that awful paralysing fear of whatever was on the other side. She told Hermione, as a way of saying that she’d forgiven her for the library faux pas, and Hermione congratulated her with all the enthusiasm that Ginny could have wished for. Even the Fat Lady’s replacement couldn’t dent Ginny’s good mood. While she wasn’t always friendly, at least the Fat Lady knew her duty. Sir Cadogan, her replacement, was useless as a guardian portrait, because he was always thinking up new passwords and setting ridiculous challenges for people trying to get through to the common room, then insulting them when they refused to take up their ‘quests’.  
  
“Can’t you ask your brother to get someone else?” Catharine demanded after a particularly tiresome ten minutes spent answering riddles. Esmé had finally ordered him to let them all through or she would complain about his lack of manners when dealing with ladies, all in her poshest voice, which made her sound like a stereotype.  
  
Ginny shook her head. “Already did. Nobody else would take the job —can you blame them? So he’s all we’ve got until the Fat Lady’s been properly restored. Besides, Percy’s more interested in keeping an eye on Harry at the moment. Unless it’s something to do with him, Percy’s not interested.”  
  
“Must run in the family,” Catharine remarked, hiding her face behind her Charms homework when Ginny glared at her. It was obvious that Percy was doing this because of something Mum had said in her letter about making sure Harry was safe, but Ginny wasn’t going to explain that. Let them think what they liked.  
  
There was an air of excitement as they waited outside the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. The Ravenclaws wanted to ask Professor Lupin which spells Sirius Black would have used to get into the castle and out again without being spotted. Ginny was happily imagining the look on his face when she told him about her breakthrough.  
  
“What is all this noise?”  
  
The sound of Professor Snape’s voice was like a bucket of cold water being poured straight down her neck. The Gryffindors shut up immediately. They’d learned from hard experience that Snape was liable to dock up to fifty house points in revenge if they didn’t. Even the Ravenclaws looked a little unnerved. Snape was gliding towards them, his face twisted in its usual expression of disapproval.  
  
“You are not first years any longer,” he said, sweeping his cold gaze over them all. “There is no excuse for acting like dimwitted Diricawls. You all know that you should wait for your teacher in an orderly and _quiet_ line.” He opened the door to the classroom without another word and went inside.  
  
“Oh God,” Rowena moaned quietly, voicing the thought in everyone’s heads, “why did it have to be _him_?”  
  
They all walked into the classroom and took their usual seats. Ginny kept her eyes on her desk, but Luna didn’t look intimidated at all, which meant that either she got really good marks in Potions or she didn’t care about what Snape said. Whatever the reason, she was firmly in the minority. Over to the left, Rowena was trying to make herself as small as possible. Snape was now writing something on the blackboard. Even the smallest squeak of the chalk could be heard in the silence.  
  
Anna Burton put up her hand; since she was a Ravenclaw, the odds were that she would come out unscathed. “Where’s Professor Lupin, sir?”  
  
“Professor Lupin is unable to take this class due to... ill health.” There was a definite amount of... well, it wasn’t satisfaction, but there was something in those words, and Ginny felt hot resentment shoot up her spine. “I will be filling in, although he has not deigned to give me any notes about what you have been studying.”  
  
“We’ve been studying the definition of the Dark Arts, sir,” said Colin, his hand up. “We’ve had a discussion about what constitutes Dark and what doesn’t in humans, and now we’ve moved onto animals, specifically –”  
  
“That will do, Creevey,” Snape said, turning around. His tone was silky but his eyes were glittering, never a good sign. “Unlike Professor Lupin, I am well aware of the syllabus for second year Defence Against the Dark Arts.”  
  
Esmé put her hand up but didn’t wait for permission to speak. “Professor Lupin is making sure we catch up on last year, because we didn’t learn much from Professor Lockhart, otherwise we won’t understand anything in the second year syllabus.”  
  
“Allow me to decide what you will and will not be able to understand, Miss Crosse,” Snape said coldly. “Today we will be studying magical carnivores: kelpies, Lethifolds, red caps, vampires and werewolves.” His voice lingered on the last word and they all looked at him. Nobody was willing to say something and be humiliated but the air was throbbing with resentment. “I want you all to read the entries on these creatures and be ready to answer questions on their habits in fifteen minutes,” Snape went on, clearly enjoying himself as copies of _Fantastic Creatures and Where To Find Them_ began floating from the bookcases and landing on their desks. “You may begin.”  
  
There was a rustle of pages and everyone started to read. Ginny stared at the words in front of her. They kept blurring with disappointment and rage. She’d been looking forward to this class so much and now it was spoilt, utterly spoilt. And Snape had deliberately chosen a subject that they hadn’t studied at all, just so he could insult their lack of progress when they had to stop reading and answer questions. Something touched her hand, and she found that Luna had written something on a piece of paper. Snape was down the other end of the room, handing back homework, so they were safe for the moment.  
  
The note said: _I’ll take the first three creatures, you take the last two, and we’ll both make notes. That way, we’ll get things done quicker and we can read each other’s notes before he asks us questions._  
  
Ginny turned it over and began to write on it just as Snape reached them. He dropped her essay in front of her.  
  
“Your usual lack of attention to detail, Weasley. If you actually tried this, you would be dead.”  
  
Ginny didn’t even give him the satisfaction of looking up. Luna said ‘thank you’ politely to Snape as he returned her essay (Snape didn’t reply) and went back to reading. Ginny slid the note back as Snape moved forward.  
  
_You having three seems a bit unfair, sure you don’t want to split an entry?_  
  
Luna shook her head and scribbled her reply. _They’re shorter compared to the entries on vampires and werewolves, so it works out even, I checked. Better start making notes now if we want to make this work._  
  
Ginny nodded and turned to the entry on vampires. Luna was right, there was a lot to read. Even making notes as she went along, it nearly took her eight minutes to write down everything important. The entry on werewolves was almost as long but most of it was about their differences from normal wolves. Ginny thought of the wolf in her dream and smiled a little. She made bullet points and noted down each difference, finishing with the difficulty of classifying werewolves and how they were both beast and being. Then she passed her notes to Luna, who’d just finished, and they each began to read what the other had written. Luna’s handwriting flowed over the page like water, the tails of her ‘g’s and ‘y’s curly like vines. Ginny noticed that there were crescent moons drawn in each corner of the paper, as well. Luna must think her notes very plain in comparison.  
  
“Quills down,” Snape said, his voice cutting across the room like a razor. “We will now see how much you have absorbed in fifteen minutes. Rapid absorption of information is a basic requirement for anyone who wishes to have a decent career.” His tone clearly implied that most of them would end up having less than decent careers.  
  
Ginny felt her heart begin to thud in her chest with a mixture of adrenalin and dislike. _We’ll show you,_ she thought, glancing at Luna’s mild expression. _We’ll show you rapid absorption._  
  
At first Snape called on the Ravenclaws, but as each of them answered his questions perfectly, he began to ask the Gryffindors questions as well. Ginny had to look away from Rowena, who was trembling visibly despite her brave face, because the sight made her feel so angry. She couldn’t afford to let her temper get the better of her, especially when she and Luna might actually get the better of Snape.  
  
“Miss Lovegood,” said Snape, and Luna stood up, hands folded in front of her meekly, only her earrings spoiling the image of a perfect Ravenclaw. She lifted her head a little, waiting for the question. Ginny could see Snape searching the book, obviously thinking up something difficult. It was a sort of compliment, she supposed.  
  
“Name the protection methods used against vampires and the way to vanquish them,” Snape demanded, watching Luna’s face closely.  
  
“Vampires may be kept away by the use of garlic, wild or cultivated, by certain protective symbols, and most importantly by water that comes from a place of magic,” Luna said, her voice light and even. “A vampire will turn to dust in direct sunlight but the most effective way to kill the undead is to drive a wooden stake through their hearts, then cut off their heads.” She stopped, blinking at him.  
  
Snape’s mouth twisted. “Is that all? You have no desire to enlighten us on Nargles or the mating dance of the blue flamingo?”  
  
The Ravenclaws rustled but nobody dared to laugh.  
  
“You didn’t ask us to research Nargles, sir,” Luna replied. “And the blue flamingo is not a magical carnivore, which is what you said we are studying today, sir.”  
  
Ginny dropped her face to the desk and allowed herself to grin. It was masterfully done. The tone, the attitude, the use of ‘sir’... he couldn’t fault her. She wanted to hug Luna, but she could wait.  
  
“Sit down,” Snape said, his voice like ice. Luna did so. She didn’t seem to be affected by his lack of appreciation. She folded her hands on the desk in front of her, face as blank as the blackboard.  
  
“Weasley,” Snape said next, hissing the name, almost sneering it. Ginny stood up and told herself to be calm, be calm. Smooth and blank, just like Luna, like a mirror. She turned her face to him, waiting for the question.  
  
“What is the only method proven to drive away a Lethifold?”  
  
“The Patronus, sir, which is produced by the incantation ‘Expecto Patronum’.” She wondered briefly what her own Patronus would look like when she learned to cast one. A weasel, like her family name? She was aware that you couldn’t choose the form of your Patronus, but that didn’t stop her wishing... she thought of the unicorn in her dream. Yes, she’d like to be protected by something like that, big and strong.  
  
“And what is the proven method for driving away a werewolf?”  
  
Ginny blinked, waiting. Snape said nothing else, he just watched her, his lips curled in a sort of smile that didn’t make her feel any better. Was this a trick question? “Sir?” she asked.  
  
“You heard me, Weasley.” He clasped his hands, waiting with that unpleasant smile, his teeth ivory yellow in his sallow face.  
  
Ginny’s mind raced. The book hadn’t said anything about driving away werewolves. It had hinted that there was no way to escape from a werewolf if you were foolish enough to let one catch sight (or smell) of you, but she had to _think_. She wouldn’t let one simple question throw her.  
  
“There is no proven method, sir,” she said. “But if you had presence of mind, you could Disapparate; failing that, you could summon the nearest broom and fly away... or you could climb a tree.”  
  
There was a ripple of laughter, quickly hushed. Ginny kept her face straight, refusing to look away. Snape’s hands were clasping each other so tightly that the knuckles were white. “You would have done better to state that there is no way of defending yourself against a werewolf,” he snapped. “Sit down.”  
  
Ginny did so. She didn’t care. She knew that they were good ideas, even if they weren’t foolproof.  
  
“Weasley’s ideas may be amusing, but you would not be laughing if you were faced with an actual werewolf,” Snape continued, rising and walking in front of his desk. “The werewolf is a vicious creature that deliberately seeks out humans. It is a monster.” He emphasised the last word, his gaze sweeping over the classroom. “The fact it is a human for three weeks out of four does not make it any less of a monster.”  
  
Colin stuck up his hand. Snape just looked at him. Colin opened his mouth to speak anyway. “Please, sir, if they’re human for three weeks out of four, that still makes them more human than werewolf. And they can’t help being werewolves, sir.”  
  
Ginny wished that she could cheer or clap. Nobody could fault Colin for his bravery, even if he was fighting a losing battle.  
  
“As usual, Creevey, you assume that everyone shares your naïvety,” Snape said with a sneer. “It is perfectly easy to avoid werewolves if you stay indoors at the full moon. Therefore the majority of werewolves were infected through their own stupidity by being out during that time.”  
  
Colin put up his hand again. “But sir, Muggles think werewolves are myths because of the Ministry for Magic. It isn’t their fault that they go out on full moons, they don’t know any better.”  
  
“Ignorance is no excuse,” Snape snapped. “This class is not about the ridiculous behaviour of Muggles, Creevey.”  
  
“But sir, it’s not ridiculous if they don’t know...”  
  
“Silence!” Snape’s eyes were burning. “Ten points from Gryffindor for trying to be clever. I’m sure your hero Potter will be proud to know that you’re following in his footsteps, Creevey.”  
  
Colin blushed and looked down, finally squashed. Ginny felt her own face flush with rage. She’d clenched her fists so tightly that her fingernails were cutting into her palms. Her body was rigid with the effort of holding back the words inside her head. _Unfair, unfair, you’re so UNFAIR._  
  
“For homework, you will each write down the methods of defending yourself from the creatures we have studied and the defining characteristics of the werewolf,” Snape announced, his voice silky once more. “One whole roll of parchment.”  
  
There was a horrified silence and the bell rang. “Class dismissed,” Snape said with satisfaction.  
  
Ginny stood up, glared at him, then turned and hurried towards Colin, who was walking towards the door with his head down. She threw an arm around Colin’s shoulders and hugged him. He looked at her, startled.  
  
“That was brilliant, Colin,” Ginny said, and the others around her nodded and agreed. “Harry _would_ be proud of you, proud you stood up to Snape.”  
  
“We’re _all_ proud of you, Colin,” Esmé assured him, which was something, as Esmé usually thought Colin was the human equivalent of a mosquito.  
  
“You showed him!” Catharine said, her eyes wide with admiration. “Blabbing on about Muggles being stupid... I wanted to slap him, I did!”  
  
“Thanks, Catharine,” Colin said, blushing slightly. “I mean... I couldn’t let him get away with speaking about my parents – _our_ parents – like that.”  
  
The Ravenclaws were also muttering about Snape, wondering how they would manage to get one whole roll of parchment done without making it seem like they’d copied each other. Ginny turned to Luna, who was walking beside her.  
  
“That was a good idea, Luna,” she said, squeezing Luna’s arm with her other hand. “We showed him.”  
  
“I don’t see why he has to turn every class into a power struggle,” Luna said, shaking her head. “I find it very hard to learn anything when someone’s trying to score points against me, don’t you?”  
  
Ginny nodded. “And you have it easy, you’re a Ravenclaw. A Gryffindor can’t do anything right as far as _he’s_ concerned.”  
  
Luna smiled at her. “I liked your ideas about getting away from werewolves. Especially climbing up a tree. Maybe you could even turn yourself into a tree...”  
  
Ginny laughed, the anger finally dissolving. “Maybe. Hadn’t thought about that.”  
  
As soon as she saw Hermione and Ron, she told them about what had happened.  
  
“But that doesn’t make sense!” Hermione said, frowning. “We saw Professor Lupin on Halloween and he was fine. And you went to see him the next day, right?”  
  
Ginny hesitated and looked down. “Well... no, actually, I forgot. I mean, even if I had remembered, they weren’t exactly letting us wander about the school.”  
  
“Why did you go and see Professor Lupin?” Ron asked, raising his eyebrows.  
  
Hermione huffed. “For heaven’s sake, Ron, keep up. Ginny’s been seeing Professor Lupin about what happened to her last year.”  
  
“She didn’t tell me!” Ron snapped and looked at Ginny, some hurt in his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”  
  
“Oh Ron,” Ginny said, sighing. “I know Mum’s told you that last year is a taboo subject when I’m around.”  
  
“That doesn’t stop you from at least telling me you’re seeing Professor Lupin for help about your dreams,” Ron said, folding his arms. “I know that you’re still having them, even if you don’t talk to me about them.”  
  
Ginny felt herself go red. “Actually... actually, I’m not having nightmares any more. I had my last one on Halloween.”  
  
Ron’s eyes widened and he beamed at her. “Ginny, that’s brilliant! You should write and tell Mum!”  
  
“No!” The thought of telling Mum anything about her dreams made Ginny feel all tight inside. “Not yet. I need to make sure it’s all over first. I don’t want her worrying.”  
  
Hermione looked ready to argue but Ron nodded, accepting this reason without question. “All right. It’s up to you.” He looked at Hermione. “Shouldn’t we tell Harry about Snape?”  
  
“No, the last thing we need is him dreading Defence Against the Dark Arts as well as Potions,” Hermione said, looking worried. “If he keeps a positive attitude towards the class, he might still do well. And maybe Snape will behave better now that he’s teaching the subject he wants to teach.”  
  
Ginny felt like shaking her. “Better? Weren’t you listening to what I said? He hadn’t changed at all. He didn’t care about what we were actually learning. He was interested in running down Professor Lupin and embarrassing us, that was it. And he’ll probably be even worse with you because of Harry,” she added.  
  
Hermione and Ron both looked depressed at this. They couldn’t deny it. The whole school knew that Snape had a grudge against Harry, for whatever reason, and took every opportunity to show it.  
  
Sadly, he turned out to be just as bad as she’d predicted. Ron received detention for actually pointing out Snape’s unfairness in class (about Hermione, as it happened) and the third years were told to write an essay on how to recognise and kill werewolves, only this time it was two rolls of parchment. Hermione began researching as soon as the day’s lessons were over.  
  
“Why are you bothering to actually do what Snape wants?” Ginny asked in disbelief.  
  
Hermione looked hurt. “You sound like Ron.”  
  
“Gee, Hermione, I wonder why Ron’s upset that you’re doing Snape’s essay?” Ginny retorted.  
  
Hermione opened her mouth and then closed it. “You never know, you might learn something useful,” she said quietly.  
  
“Useful or not, Snape has some sort of agenda against Professor Lupin, and I’m not going to help him with it,” Ginny said, folding her arms. “He can stuff his roll of parchment up his arse. Actually, maybe that’s his problem.”  
  
“Ginny!” Hermione put her hand over her mouth, trying to look scandalised, but the giggles were too strong. “You shouldn’t...”  
  
“What? Say that Snape’s stiff in all the wrong places? At least I’m putting it delicately for your sensitive ears, unlike my darling brothers,” Ginny added, glancing over to the fireplace, where Fred and George were once more holding court. “I’m going to Professor Lupin’s office this Sunday as usual... if he’s there, of course. I hope so. I want him to know I went through the door.”  
  
“Maybe he’ll be at the Quidditch match,” Hermione said thoughtfully. “If he’s recovered, I mean. You could tell him then.”  
  
Ginny considered this. She’d almost forgotten it was the team’s first official match this Saturday: almost, but not completely. Nobody who had any contact with Oliver Wood could forget that there was a Quidditch match coming up. “Maybe,” she agreed. “If there’s an opportunity.”  
  
“If?” Hermione repeated. “I thought you really wanted to tell him.”  
  
“I do, but...” Ginny sighed. She knew that she couldn’t really explain, not to someone like Hermione. Quidditch matches were not just sporting occasions, they were also big social events. The Quidditch pitch was the only place where the houses could mix and interact freely, apart from the dining hall. A lot of people met their girlfriends and boyfriends during matches. At the very least, a Quidditch match was an opportunity to meet people you wanted to get to know better, and Ginny knew that she had to catch up after last year. The girls were already telling her about various people they wanted her to meet and Hermione had also mentioned a couple of people from her own year, such as Susan Bones and Sally-Anne Perks. And then, of course, there was the Quidditch itself. Ginny was a big fan, like most of her fellow Gryffindors — even those who didn’t play were avid spectators — and she knew it was important to Wood that everyone was there and focused on a Gryffindor win. Because it was his last year, and therefore his last chance to win the school Quidditch Cup, the advent of Gryffindor’s first Quidditch match had turned him into a machine. The team was practising six times a week, with Wood squeezing in the amateur session during lunchtime. He barked his instructions, sometimes only using one word, analysing their play with a manic glint in his eyes, pulling no punches. After a particularly bruising lunchtime, Ginny asked the twins if he was this bad around the team.  
  
“Worse,” was George’s succinct reply. “I think he’s gone a bit mad, if you want my opinion, Ginny. It’s because of having to play Hufflepuff instead of Slytherin. I told him yesterday he should get some sleep – he was plotting out formations – and do you know what he said? ‘Sleep isn’t going to win us the Quidditch Cup, Weasley.’”  
  
Both twins shook their heads.  
  
“I mean, you couldn’t ask for a better captain and we all want to win,” Fred said, “but he just doesn’t seem to know when to stop. And Harry gets the worst of it, because he’s the Seeker. Don’t know how he stands it.”  
  
_Because ‘hard’ for Harry is fighting You Know Who,_ Ginny thought, but she said nothing. She knew Fred would make the old joke that Quidditch was not life and death – it was much more important than that. And after Sirius Black’s reappearance, Ginny didn’t really want to joke about life and death when it came to Harry.  
  
She felt even worse when she woke up on Saturday morning and heard the thunder outside. Since they were in the tallest tower, the thunder sounded as if it was right outside their window. Normally, Ginny rather enjoyed the feeling, but this was different. Today was the day of the Quidditch match and Harry was going to play in this. She got up, making sure to put her feet into the slippers by her bed. The fire was already lit, but Ginny knew that wouldn’t have made much difference to the floorboards. She slipped on her old cotton dressing gown and crossed to the window. It was even worse than she’d thought. The sky was covered in angry dark clouds, which shimmered every now and then with lightning, and the treetops of the Forbidden Forest were swaying like drunken sailors as the wind howled around the tower. Ginny rested her head against the cool glass in misery and then gasped silently.  
  
There, there it was. The dog. Standing on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, almost blending into the shadows, just as it had in her dream, but it was there all right. She could see it. The dog lifted its head, turning it this way and that, scenting the air, Ginny knew that as clearly as if she were standing next to it. Having decided that it wasn’t in danger, the dog began to lope across the grass towards the Quidditch pitch, keeping to the edge of the forest. Ginny pressed herself to the side, watching it as far as she could, until it disappeared from view.  
  
“Flippin’ ’eck, look at that,” said Catharine, making Ginny jump.  
  
“Did you see it?” she demanded, turning round, but then she saw Catharine was still in bed, just blinking at the window.  
  
“See what?” Catharine asked as she wandered over to the window, but she didn’t wait for an answer. “How are they going to play in all this, Ginny? I mean, it’s impossible. Won’t they cancel?”  
  
Ginny shook her head. “They never cancel Quidditch matches.”  
  
“But they’re going to be on _brooms_, up in the _air_, in _this_,” Catharine said, eyes wide. “I mean, it’s an accident waiting to happen, one of them’s bound to be struck by lightning, if they’re not blown off their brooms or just blown away, broom and all.”  
  
Ginny shrugged. “They won’t cancel. And nobody will suggest it.”  
  
Catharine shook her head. “I want Gryffindor to win as much as anybody, Ginny, but this is mad.”  
  
“Not getting any disagreement from me,” Ginny sighed. “Come on, let’s go down for breakfast. No point standing here, it won’t get any better.”  
  
Catharine nodded gloomily and they both got dressed, wrapping scarves around their necks for extra warmth, because while the tower was warm and the Great Hall would be warm, the corridors between them were going to be freezing. Even with scarves, robes and winter clothes, they both shivered as they hurried down the staircases. Ginny couldn’t help breathing a sigh of relief when they pushed open the doors to the Great Hall and a wave of warmth met them. Harry was already at the table, eating some porridge. Ginny wondered how long he’d been up.  
  
“He looks terrible,” Catharine observed. “Can’t say I blame him.”  
  
“Shh,” Ginny said reprovingly. “He might hear you.” She sat down and drew her own bowl of porridge towards her, picked up the jug of honey and drizzled a liberal amount over the surface before mixing it up with a spoon. She thought Harry had the right idea: this kind of weather demanded something warm and solid.  
  
Esmé and Rowena didn’t appear until half an hour later. They were not happy about the weather, either. Hermione and Ron came down conferring anxiously. The Gryffindor team seemed determined to be cheerful, but Wood didn’t eat anything. He just sipped at some pumpkin juice and stared out of the windows.  
  
When it was time to head for the pitch, they all huddled before the entrance doors. Rowena was holding the umbrella as the tallest. She took a deep breath, pushed it open, and they all ran for it, trying to huddle underneath its great black brim. It wasn’t pleasant, even with waterproof cloaks, and then they had to dry the seats when they got to the stands.  
  
“How is Harry going to see in this?” Esmé wondered, gazing around. “None of us have glasses and I can barely see five feet in front of me.”  
  
Ginny didn’t answer. She’d been thinking the exact same thing and she hadn’t come up with any solutions. The whole school came out to see the match as usual, but socialising was impossible in these conditions except for really desperate couples. Ginny couldn’t see Professor Lupin anywhere, but then she could barely see the dark mass of Hermione’s head two rows in front of her and that was usually unmistakable. The teams were only visible because of their bright colours: Hufflepuff in canary yellow, Gryffindor in scarlet and gold. They all squinted as the captains shook hands and the teams mounted their brooms.  
  
“Frankly, I don’t care who wins as long as it’s over quickly and we can get inside,” Rowena said, but very quietly so that the surrounding spectators wouldn’t hear her and start hexing her on the spot.  
  
Ginny wanted to tell her off, but she couldn’t blame Rowena for the lack of enthusiasm. “Harry’ll catch the Snitch, don’t worry,” she said, putting more cheer into her voice than she felt.  
  
Madam Hooch’s whistle was a clear blast of noise and then the two flocks, yellow and scarlet, rose into the air. People began to call out and cheer in support, clapping, though it was doubtful if the teams could even hear them over the wind and the rain and the thunder. Ginny could see the scarlet dot of Harry whizzing around, but she could tell just from the way he was flying that he was having trouble. The rain was obviously taking its toll on his vision while the wind and thunder certainly weren’t helping his concentration. She could just about hear Lee Jordan’s commentary on the match: it was close as first one team scored, then the other. Ginny was amazed that the Chasers could see to play and that Wood was actually managing to mark at all, let alone decently. Gryffindor pulled fifty points ahead, then the rain became even harder and the pitch was lit up by a flash of lightning.  
  
“They have to stop it now!” Catharine muttered.  
  
“They are stopping!” Rowena said, as she risked tipping her head upwards. “I think Wood’s called a time out… look, they’re all gathering down there.”  
  
“Where’s Hermione Granger going?” asked Esmé, squinting as the mass of dark hair suddenly moved, hurrying down to the side of the pitch. Ginny wished that she could go with Hermione and make sure that Harry was all right.  
  
“I don’t know, but she’s probably thought of something useful,” she said, crossing her fingers and toes.  
  
Hermione was already moving back to where she’d been sitting. Everyone patted her on the shoulder as she sat down, so Ginny assumed that Hermione must have done something to make herself popular, which didn’t happen often.  
  
The Gryffindors took off again and Ginny could see immediately that Harry was flying better: straighter, more quickly, more focused. She found that she was holding her breath, begging him inside her mind to find the Snitch, find it quickly. In the lightning flashes, everything turned black and white, even the bright colours of the Quidditch teams. Ginny was looking everywhere, trying to see the Snitch herself, trying to find it for him…  
  
She gasped and grabbed Esmé’s arm. “Esmé! Up there on the top row of seats!” There, outlined in black against the shuddering white background, was the dog. Its eyes seemed to be fixed on the Quidditch players.  
  
“What is _that_ doing there?” Esmé said, grabbing her binoculars and training them on the dog.  
  
Ginny whispered in her ear. “I’ve seen that dog before: a few weeks ago, on the edge of the forest, and just this morning, heading towards the pitch. I don’t know what it is, but I think there’s something funny about it.”  
  
“Diggory’s seen the Snitch!” Rowena wailed.  
  
Ginny’s heart gave a great lurch. She turned her eyes back to the pitch and saw a yellow spot speeding away from the crowd of players. A scarlet spot tore after it but he was so far away…  
  
“Come on, Harry, come on,” Ginny whispered and she realised the other girls were saying it with her, willing him on. She felt a wave of warm feeling move over her.  
  
“Come on, Harry, come on, you can do it...”  
  
Then the air suddenly turned cold in her lungs and Ginny gasped, fighting to breathe. She could hear the girls calling her name, asking what was wrong, but she couldn’t answer. Her whole body had started to shake. Screams erupted from the crowd, mixing in with the voice inside her head, growing louder and louder.  
  
“DEMENTORS! DEMENTORS! THE DEMENTORS ARE ON THE PITCH!”  
  
_“... you stupid little girl, Ginny...”_  
  
“Ginny, come on, we have to get away!” That was Rowena, but so distant, so small.  
  
_“You didn’t really think I was interested in what you thought, did you?”_  
  
“She’s going to faint, get help, NOW!” That was Esmé. She could feel someone hugging her, a voice begging her to fight it, to breathe, and all around her the screams of the crowd, panicking, like the pulse in her neck, fluttering.  
  
_“You didn’t think that he’d be interested? He’ll never be interested in a pathetic, blushing fool like you...”_  
  
“No,” she whimpered, bending over. “No, I’m not pathetic, I’m not, I’m not...”  
  
“GINNY!”  
  
The voice cut through the haze and she looked up into brown eyes, eyes that were familiar, but not Mum’s eyes, not Charlie’s eyes, not Hermione’s eyes…  
  
Hands closed around hers, warm and wet from the rain, pressing something into her palms, something square. The cold receded and the voice faded and she gasped, air rushing into her lungs. The face came into focus and relief made her go limp.  
  
“Eat the chocolate,” said Professor Lupin, his face haggard, his eyes underlined with shadows. He turned to Esmé. “Make sure she eats all of it.”  
  
“Where were you?” Ginny whispered, but he was gone, moving among the others, handing out chocolate as he went.  
  
Then she heard someone scream again, but it was nearer, sharper. She recognised the voice, it was Hermione’s voice, and it was screaming, “HARRY!” Her heart twisted in fear and she looked up just in time to see a scarlet spot hurtling through the air, hurtling towards the ground at such great speed, she stood up, she had no thought in her head except to stop him, he was going to die, he was going to die…  
  
Hands grabbed her arms, her legs faltered, unable to carry her forward, and she almost fell down, but she had to get to him, she had to make sure he was all right, so many people were screaming his name.  
  
“No, Ginny, for God’s sake, you can barely walk!” Rowena shoved her back into the seat and Ginny realised that she was the one screaming Harry’s name.  
  
“Harry!” She repeated the only word she could say, looking at them desperately.  
  
“Professor Dumbledore saved him, look!” Catharine pointed to where Dumbledore was standing in the middle of the pitch. He pointed his wand and what looked like a massive white bird exploded into the air, flying after the Dementors, who fled the pitch. Then Dumbledore turned, looking at something on the ground, something scarlet. Ginny heard herself moan and she bent forward, unable to look.  
  
“He’s dead,” she whispered, feeling something break inside her. “He’s dead...”  
  
“You don’t know that!” Esmé said fiercely, but her face was white. “But if you eat the bloody chocolate, you can go and see for yourself instead of sitting here moaning!”  
  
Ginny had forgotten the lump in her hand. It hadn’t even melted in the cold. She bit off a piece, felt that delicious warmth move through her and crammed the rest in, uncaring of table manners. She had to see him, she had to see Harry. Rowena and Catharine took her arms and helped her up. Normally, Ginny would have hated this, would have pushed them away, but right now she didn’t care. If this would help her to get to Harry quicker, she’d accept it.  
  
The crowd was shell-shocked and almost still as they moved through, everyone whispering Harry’s name. Ginny’s legs trembled as they hit the rough ground but Rowena and Catharine carried her forward and she kept walking, every step making her stronger. She pulled her arms away and looked around, but the Dementors had disappeared. There was nothing... nothing except a smudge of orange near the forest. Ginny hesitated for a moment, but she couldn’t investigate. Not when Harry was… she turned and began to run, pushing through the crowd. “Come on, move,” she growled at her legs, wishing Professor Lupin had given her more chocolate. The steps up to the entrance doors were almost too much for her but she pushed herself and stumbled forward to the stairs, grabbing the end banister to keep herself upright, panting. Her whole body was trembling now and she knew that was a bad sign. She rested her head on the smooth wood and tried to breathe deeply, tried to calm herself, but it was impossible to be calm with the horrible vision of Harry dropping from the sky like a stone, the memory of Dumbledore looking at that crumpled scarlet heap on the ground… “Harry,” she whimpered under her breath.  
  
“Ginny? Are you all right?”  
  
She looked up into pale grey eyes and almost sobbed with relief.  
  
“Luna... please, help me get to the hospital wing, I need to see Harry, he might be... he might be...”  
  
Luna slipped an arm around Ginny’s shoulders. “Lean on me,” she said, and Ginny was glad to do so as they slowly made their way up the stairs. She hadn’t felt so weak for a long time but this wasn’t the same as leaning on the girls. Luna was different. It seemed to take forever to get along the corridors, but eventually they arrived at the hospital wing. Quite a few people were in bed, obviously recovering from the Dementors. When Madam Pomfrey saw them standing in the doorway, Luna almost fully supporting Ginny’s weight by now, she flew forward, her face paling.  
  
“Miss Lovegood, what happened?!”  
  
“She wanted to see Harry Potter,” Luna explained, “I think she’s in shock from the Dementors, her body’s trembling really badly.”  
  
“I shouldn’t wonder after last year,” Madam Pomfrey muttered, carefully taking Ginny’s weight. “Miss Weasley, you should be more careful. You may not be an extreme case like Mr. Potter but you are certainly more susceptible to those creatures than most...”  
  
By now, Ginny felt like a rag doll. She could barely move her legs or arms as Madam Pomfrey led her to a bed and basically lifted her onto it, pushing her legs back as she drew the blanket up over her body. She turned to one of the older girls who was helping her. “A Warming Draught and another bar of chocolate, Penelope. She’ll need someone to watch over her until she’s fully recovered, deeper trauma...”  
  
Luna sat down in the chair beside the bed, her eyes fixed on Ginny’s face, her expression solemn, but Ginny was staring at the older girl, who had long curly hair falling around her face. “Penelope...” she said.  
  
Penelope Clearwater gave her a shaky smile. “I’m glad you’re all right, Ginny,” she said, then turned and left to follow Madam Pomfrey’s orders.  
  
“I’ll stay with Ginny until Penelope comes back, Madam Pomfrey,” Luna announced.  
  
Madam Pomfrey hesitated, then she nodded. “Very well. Make sure she doesn’t get out of bed.” She turned and went to check on someone else.  
  
Ginny turned her head and looked at Luna. “Thank you, Luna,” she whispered.  
  
“You needed my help,” Luna said, looking back at her. “So I helped you.”  
  
“Luna... do you know anything about Harry? Is he alive?”  
  
“You really like Harry Potter, don’t you?” Luna asked, and Ginny realised that this was not sarcastic or even ironic but an actual question. A question about Harry that she could answer without blushing her head off, how amazing.  
  
“Yes, I do.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
Ginny closed her eyes. “I could tell you, but I wouldn’t make sense.”  
  
“You’re in shock,” Luna said, and Ginny felt a hand on top of hers, light and comforting. “I know what that’s like. You feel disconnected. And it’s worse because you’re worried about Harry Potter. Answering questions is good when you’re in shock. It helps re-establish the connection. That’s what they told me. So why do you like him?”  
  
Ginny didn’t know what to say. Nobody had ever asked her that question. She’d never even thought about it. She just did, people accepted that she did, end of story. And now here was Luna, with that Ravenclaw mindset which was so different from that of her family and other friends, making her think about it.  
  
“Because,” she said, opening her eyes again and looking at Luna. “Because... he has messy black hair and big green eyes and this habit of pushing his glasses up his nose... because he never gives up... because he’s a fantastic flyer... because he’s _good_.” Her voice wobbled on that word. It expressed so much, so much that was indescribable, indefinable. It expressed what she’d felt on waking up and seeing his face, covered in blood and dust and dirt, and realised that he’d come for her.  
  
Luna looked at her for a moment and then nodded. “There aren’t many good people.”  
  
“No,” Ginny said softly, “no, there aren’t.” She swallowed. “And I don’t want Harry to be dead.”  
  
“Here we are,” announced Penelope, appearing like a good fairy, a steaming goblet in one hand, a golden rectangle in the other. “One Warming Draught and one bar of Honeydukes’s best honeycomb chocolate.”  
  
Luna patted Ginny’s hand. “See you later,” she said, and left before Ginny could thank her or ask her to find out what was going on with Harry. Penelope watched her go and then turned to Ginny with a small smile.  
  
“It’s nice to see Luna’s made a friend, finally,” she said. “She’s quite isolated in her year… but I suppose you know that.” She put a glass rod in the goblet and stirred it briskly for a couple of seconds, then nodded. “Right, can you sit up for me?”  
  
Ginny pushed herself up with trembling arms and Penelope arranged the pillows so she could sink back against them. “Warming Draught first, then the chocolate,” she said, handing the goblet over.  
  
Ginny looked at the red liquid, sniffed the steam (apples and cinnamon), then drank it all down in one gulp. At first, it seemed to burn her stomach, then the burning spread right through her body and she shivered in reaction. Penelope nodded.  
  
“That’s better. Now, eat this, all of it.” She held out the bar of chocolate and Ginny unwrapped it, nibbling on one corner.  
  
“Has Percy been here?”  
  
“Only to make sure that everything’s being done correctly,” Penelope answered with a fond smile and a roll of the eyes. “You’re lucky you missed him or I wouldn’t have been able to get him out of the room.”  
  
Ginny cringed at the thought. “And he’d feel honour-bound to write and tell Mum about the fact I was in the hospital wing...”  
  
“I won’t tell him if you won’t,” Penelope assured her. “Just make sure you eat all that chocolate.”  
  
“I couldn’t have said it better myself, Miss Clearwater,” said a hoarse but recognisable voice.  
  
Ginny looked up, feeling ridiculously relieved. “Professor Lupin...”  
  
He nodded, sitting down in the chair Luna had left empty. “What are we going to do with you?” he said, but his eyes were gentle. “I thought I told you to eat all that chocolate I gave you.”  
  
“I did, but then Harry…” Ginny’s voice caught and she swallowed. “I saw him fall, I thought he was…” She looked at him, knowing that he was probably the only person who would tell her the truth at the moment. “Professor Lupin, is Harry dead?”  
  
“Ginny!” said Penelope, shocked. “You mean you exhausted yourself like that just because of —”  
  
“Perhaps you should go and help Madam Pomfrey, Miss Clearwater. I promise you that I’ll make sure Miss Weasley eats her chocolate,” Professor Lupin said calmly.  
  
Penelope blinked. “Yes, sir,” she said and turned smartly. Ginny watched her walk off, shoulders stiff.  
  
“Sir, should you...?”  
  
Professor Lupin smiled ruefully. “No, but the last thing you need is a scolding. Ginny, Harry isn’t dead.”  
  
Ginny felt all the tension leave her body and she collapsed against the pillows, the chocolate falling out of her nerveless fingers. Lupin picked it up and put it on her lap so that she could reach it easily when she recovered. “Does that make it better?” he asked.  
  
Ginny nodded and then realised that she was crying. She put her hand up and wiped the tears away, but more followed. “I’m sorry,” she said, dazed. “I don’t know what’s the matter with me...”  
  
“You’ve just had a nasty shock, that’s what the matter is,” Lupin said, holding out his handkerchief, which she noticed was spotless. “It’s perfectly natural to cry. Especially if you were so worried that you made yourself run all the way back to Hogwarts.”  
  
Ginny took the handkerchief and stared at him. “How did you—?”  
  
“Not difficult to guess. He’s unconscious, but he’s alive. No injuries. Professor Dumbledore managed to catch him in time.”  
  
“I’m so glad,” Ginny whispered, although ‘glad’ didn’t describe the intense relief that was sweeping through her, making her tremble. She wiped her cheeks and handed the handkerchief back, then picked up the chocolate again and bit into it, avoiding his eyes. She felt very exposed. It was one thing to tell him about her dreams and fears, but quite another to show him this.  
  
“We’re all glad,” Lupin said, looking around. “Dumbledore was angry enough... I don’t like to think what he’d have done if Harry had died.”  
  
“I’m glad you’re better, as well,” Ginny said, surprising him. “It was horrible without you. You are better, aren’t you?” she asked, looking closer, thinking how tired he looked.  
  
“Still a little under the weather, but getting better every day,” he assured her. “It’s… not as bad as it looks, trust me.”  
  
Ginny could tell he was hiding something, but she was too tired and too grateful for his tact to push the issue. She just nodded and broke off another piece of chocolate, chewing on the pieces of honeycomb.  
  
“There she is!”  
  
Esmé and Catharine burst through the door, Rowena just behind them.  
  
“We didn’t know where you were!” she wailed. “You just disappeared and we looked all over the grounds and — oh, hello, Professor Lupin.” She blushed.  
  
Lupin smiled at them and pushed himself onto his feet. “Hello, girls. You’ll be happy to know that Ginny is fine, but she needs to rest. I’m sure I can count on you to look after her.”  
  
“Are you feeling better now, Professor Lupin?” Catharine asked, trying not to seem shocked at his appearance.  
  
“Much better, thank you, Miss Watson. I’ll see you all on Wednesday, as usual.” Lupin turned and moved towards another bed.  
  
Rowena dropped into his seat. “Please don’t do that again, Ginny,” she said shakily. “We thought you might have been crushed.”  
  
“Or that you’d fainted somewhere and were freezing to death,” Catharine added.  
  
Ginny smiled at them. “Harry’s alive,” she said.  
  
Catharine stared. Rowena gaped. “Well, that’s... good,” she managed, looking at the other two girls for help.  
  
Esmé sighed. “Doesn’t matter that she almost fainted of exhaustion or that we spent the last fifteen minutes getting soaked looking for her... nope, Harry Potter’s alive, so all is right with the world. We should be used to it by now, Rowena.”  
  
Ginny felt a small twinge. “You can have some of my chocolate if you like,” she said, offering it.  
  
Esmé shook her head. “No. That’s your medicine, so you eat all of it. We’re not leaving until you do.”  
  
“How did you get up here anyway?” Catharine asked.  
  
“Luna. She helped me.”  
  
“A friend in need...” said Esmé, leaving the proverb uncompleted. They all knew it.  
  
“You helped me as well,” Ginny said, looking down at the blanket. “Thanks.”  
  
Catharine shrugged. “You’d do the same for us. Though I don’t think any of the boys we like will ever be quite as much trouble as Harry.” She tried to smile.  
  
“Be grateful!” Ginny retorted, and they all laughed, relaxing.  
  
The hospital wing was almost empty of visitors now, except for a small crowd of soaked, muddy people standing around a bed near Madam Pomfrey’s office. They were all wearing similar clothes. Ginny realised with a shock that it was the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Ron and Hermione were there, as well, also very wet but clean. Ron was tall enough to look over some people’s shoulders, while Hermione was standing between Angelina and Alicia and blowing her nose.  
  
“Do you want us to go and...?” Esmé offered.  
  
Ginny shook her head. “No. It’s okay. You should go back to the common room. I’m going to rest here for a while.”  
  
“Send a message when you’re ready and we’ll come back to get you,” Rowena said, touching her on the arm.  
  
Ginny nodded, already feeling the fatigue settle in, her bones becoming heavy as lead. She saw them leave and then her eyelids closed and sleep came and took her. Confusing images passed through her mind: scarlet birds falling out of the sky and rescued by phoenixes, Dementors floating up to her with snakes wriggling out of their sleeves, the Snitch... the Snitch hovering in front of her, always just out of reach.  
  
Ginny woke up and realised that she’d been making grabbing motions in her sleep. She sat up. Her arms and legs were obeying her and she felt connected to her body again, connected to everything. She looked around. The hospital wing was dimly lit by the lamp outside Madam Pomfrey’s office, but that was it. She wondered what time it was — after five o’clock from the darkness. The remains of a splendid sunset could be seen through the windows. She looked at Harry’s bed. He was still there. They were the only two people left in the wing.  
  
Ginny felt her heart begin to pound. She turned and found her shoes by the bed, put them on, and then carefully crept up to Harry’s bedside, preparing a speech for if he was awake. She found that it was easier to speak to him if she planned something in advance. This time, however, there was no need. Harry was sleeping, his glasses folded neatly on the cabinet beside his bed. His hair fell over his forehead and Ginny reached out to push it back, then stopped. She knew that if she touched him, he would probably wake up, and she didn’t want that. She wanted to keep looking at him for just a little while. He looked different while he was sleeping, younger. She could see how his features were changing from a little boy to a young man, see the fine balance. Ginny wondered if people saw the same thing in her face. Probably not, given the way they treated her. She perched herself on the edge of his bed and looked at him, taking her fill. She might never get another chance like this.  
  
Harry moved slightly and Ginny started up, ready to run back to her own bed, but he mumbled in his sleep and settled down again. She noticed that he was hugging something, a bag. The end was slightly open, so she bent down and peered inside. Wood. Splinters of wood.  
  
Ginny felt her stomach swoop and she grabbed at the bedpost. She knew what was in the bag without being told. She knew because of the way Harry was holding it to him, like something precious, something he loved. Those splinters belonged to Harry’s broom. His marvellous Nimbus 2000. Ginny took a deep breath. Harry’s broom, smashed to pieces. He must be devastated.  
  
_How can I tell him I’m sorry? I can barely speak to him._  
  
“Miss Weasley? How are you feeling?” Madam Pomfrey was standing in the doorway of her office with a sympathetic look on his face.  
  
“I feel much better,” Ginny told her.  
  
Madam Pomfrey walked forward and put her hand under Ginny’s chin, tipping her head up into the light, gazing into Ginny’s eyes. “Yes. That sleep did you the world of good. I’ll send a message to your friends, shall I?”  
  
Ginny nodded. “Yes, please.” She turned to watch Harry once more as Madam Pomfrey went to write the message. She had to try and make Harry feel better. But how? What could possibly console him for such a big loss? Nothing, really. She would just have to set her sights a little lower and try to make him smile instead. With no broom of his own, Harry would have to use one of the school’s, and a Shooting Star just couldn’t compare to a Nimbus.  
  
The thought hit her so suddenly that she had to put a hand over her mouth to suppress a gasp. Even if Harry borrowed one of the school brooms, he still had to deal with the Dementors. They couldn’t afford to have a Seeker who fainted every time he went near one, especially after losing today’s game. There was no doubt about it: she would have to train as a Seeker. If only to lessen the pressure on Harry.  
  
Ginny looked at him, sleeping so deeply, and let out a small sigh. It would be her gift. He might never know but that wasn’t the point. The point was making things easier, however slightly.  
  
“Don’t worry, Harry,” she whispered. “I’m here.”

* * *

The next day, Ginny knocked on Professor Lupin’s door once more. When she heard his voice, she pushed the door open and almost ran into the room.  
  
“For you.” She held out a dark green envelope, with gold ink spelling out _Professor Lupin_ on the front. “Everyone in our class signed it.”  
  
Professor Lupin took it from her, a mixture of surprise and pleasure showing on his face. Esmé had drawn a sick bed with a little wolf in it on the front of the card, and inside everyone had written their name in ink that turned different colours, thanks to Fred. Professor Lupin stared at the drawing for a moment.  
  
“It’s because of your name,” Ginny said, suddenly anxious at his expression. “Esmé and I thought it would be funny... like a joke... you don’t mind, do you?”  
  
He looked up, his eyes suddenly bright. “No, of course not, it’s very funny. And look at all these names… it’s a charming card, Ginny.”  
  
Ginny felt herself blushing and was irritated. “Well, I had the idea, but everyone clubbed together to make it,” she explained.  
  
“Still, it’s a lovely thought.” He put the card on his desk. “But surely it wasn’t that bad.”  
  
“Bad? It was awful! Professor Snape made us research magical carnivores – which has _nothing_ to do with what you’re teaching us – and then he asked us all these questions about fighting them and killing them, and he picked on Colin because he said that anyone who was a werewolf only had themselves to blame, and Colin tried to point out that Muggles can’t help being werewolves because they don’t know...” She realised that she was babbling and stopped, taking a breath. “He was really unfair and he even gave us homework about it! And I haven’t done it,” she added, lifting her chin. “You can take away points if you like but I am not going to do an essay on magical carnivores and werewolves when we don’t even start Care of Magical Creatures until next year.”  
  
Professor Lupin watched her with a sort of smile as she finished. “Well, that tells me, doesn’t it?” he said, and Ginny felt herself blushing again. It didn’t make sense. She only ever blushed around Harry and this was nothing like what she felt for him. But there was something about Professor Lupin. She wanted him to approve of her, she wanted him to understand… She couldn’t quite define it.  
  
“I’m sorry,” she said, realising that Professor Lupin was one of the few people who could actually make her feel ashamed if he chose.  
  
Professor Lupin shook his head, still smiling. “This is a private conversation. I promised you at the beginning that nothing said in here would go beyond these walls. It does sound like you had a rather strange lesson... I’ll look into it. How are you? How are the dreams?”  
  
Ginny sat up and put her books on the desk. “I did it!” she announced with a bright smile.  
  
“You did it?”  
  
“I walked through the door!” She beamed at him. “I had this dream... I was in the Forbidden Forest. There was a unicorn... it was like my guide. And there was that dog, the one I told you about. I don’t know why that was there, but anyway… they both sort of led me to the door. It was in the forest, for some reason. And you were there, too.” She pointed at the card, feeling a bit shy. “That’s another reason... you were a wolf in my dream. But a _nice_ wolf,” she emphasised, feeling that this was important.  
  
“How did you know it was me?” Professor Lupin asked. He didn’t seem upset about his animal identity this time, thank goodness.  
  
“You spoke,” Ginny said, realising that she hadn’t mentioned that part.  
  
“But the dog didn’t speak?”  
  
“No.” She shook her head. “It looked at me, but it didn’t speak. Neither did the unicorn. Just you. You told me that I had to make the choice to go through the door because I couldn’t go back. And then... then I heard his voice.” She closed her eyes for a second. “It was like in _Red Riding Hood_. What big ears, what big eyes, what big hands...” She shivered and opened her eyes, fixing them on his face. “But I wouldn’t say what came next. I wouldn’t. I just... I refused. I wasn’t going to be eaten. Not again. Not by him. I was never going to let anyone eat me again.” The feeling of exhilaration was rushing back as she remembered it. “And I told him so. And then I opened the door – and this wind tried to push me back – but I walked forward and I fell… and I did it!” She grinned at him, breathless, waiting for the congratulations.  
  
Professor Lupin smiled softly. “Well done, Ginny.”  
  
Ginny blinked. She’d expected more than that, even if Professor Lupin wasn’t the type to leap up and down with joy. But this... “What is it?” she asked.  
  
“Did you really think it was going to be over with walking through the door?” he asked.  
  
Ginny felt as if she was falling again, only this time there was nothing to stop her, nobody to catch her. “It’s not over?” she asked.  
  
He shook his head. “I’d be lying if I said so.”  
  
Ginny almost cried. She felt her eyes getting hot and looked all around the room, blinking hard. When she was sure that her voice wouldn’t break, she spoke again. “Is it ever going to be over?” she asked.  
  
“It’s already better, isn’t it?”  
  
Ginny thought about this and nodded. “Yes. A little. I feel better than I did in the holidays. We visited my brother Bill in Egypt this summer. I really enjoyed it... but I knew that, sooner or later, I’d have to go to sleep and then I’d dream about the door. It was like there were two of me, like I was split. One part of me was enjoying the holiday and the other part of me was sitting there, watching. She couldn’t join in.” She looked up. Professor Lupin had that sympathetic look on his face again, his brown eyes soft and intelligent. It made Ginny feel as if she could tell him anything and he’d understand. “I think Bill wanted to talk to me about what had happened,” she said. “But Mum wouldn’t let him. If we were alone together, she would come out and interrupt us. I heard her telling him once that he shouldn’t bring it up because she didn’t want me dwelling on it. I was so angry...” She put a finger on the grain in his desk and rubbed at it. “She wanted me to go back to being a little girl. She wanted me to be the same. But I couldn’t be the same and I hated everyone trying to pretend I was. Bill was the only one who wouldn’t pretend. Although Ron… Ron didn’t say much but I knew that he was thinking about it, as well.”  
  
Her voice trailed off. She’d never really thought what it must have been like for Ron, waiting on the other side of those rocks, not knowing if she was alive or dead, if Harry was alive or dead. She thought of her terror and misery yesterday (was it only yesterday?) as she tried to find out about Harry. Ron had felt that for much longer than a few minutes. He’d been so happy to see her and she’d pushed him away... Ginny shook herself, remembering that Professor Lupin was still sitting there, listening patiently. “My point is, even if there is more to come, I’ll never have to dream about that door again, and that makes me so happy, Professor Lupin. It’s such a relief. That’s all I meant to say.”  
  
She smiled at him and he smiled back. “Good. I’m glad that you’ve made progress, but it’s almost more important that you feel you’ve made progress. That feeling is important, it will carry you through. As for your question...” Lupin sighed. “I can’t really answer that, Ginny. You’ve just said that you can’t go back and that’s very true. Something like this... as I told you, it can take months or even years to come to terms fully with what happened. So much of this depends on you, your personality and your will. You seem very determined and very bright, so don’t despair. I’m sure that you will overcome this but you have to be patient. Patience is also very important, and I know that’s not a Gryffindor virtue.” He gave her a look and Ginny couldn’t help laughing.  
  
“I don’t go running around every time I feel sick, Professor Lupin.”  
  
“I’m pleased to hear it. And I’m pleased to hear that you have guides in your dream now. Guides mean that you have some idea of what you want to do and how to do it. It’s unusual to have three, but I suppose…” He seemed lost in thought for a moment. “Perhaps the unicorn was only to guide you to the door. Don’t be surprised if the next time you dream, you only have two guides, or even one. The guides might even change as the journey continues.”  
  
“As long as you stay with me,” Ginny said and then coughed. “I mean, as long as I can still talk to you about the dreams...”  
  
“You know where I am if you ever have a question.”  
  
She nodded and stood up, putting the books on his desk. “I don’t think I need them any more,” she explained. “If I do need them again, I’ll ask.”  
  
“Ginny… have you seen that dog again?” His expression was calm but there was just a hint of strain in the voice.  
  
Ginny wondered if she should tell him about the match for a moment, then decided it wasn’t necessary. This dog obviously meant something to him, what she didn’t know, but he obviously worried about it and the last thing he needed to do after being so sick was worry. She shook her head. “No. Must have been a stray.”  
  
Professor Lupin nodded, looking relieved. “Yes, I suppose so.”  
  
Ginny smiled, said goodbye and left, confident that she’d made the right decision. His words had reminded her of her desire to investigate the forest and her promise to Esmé that they’d go together. She thought of that smudge of orange. There was only one animal at Hogwarts with that colour coat, the last animal she’d have expected to see out in a downpour, but there was no other suspect: Crookshanks. And why would Crookshanks be going anywhere near the forest? He hadn’t tired of chasing Scabbers, she knew that.  
  
“Too many mysteries,” she muttered as she arrived at the portrait hole.  
  
Sir Cadogan squinted down at her. “Should I accept a challenge from one so small and fair?”  
  
Ginny rolled her eyes. “_Adeste Fidelis_ isn’t a challenge, it’s the password. So open up or I’ll tell everyone what a ruffian you were, refusing entry to a small, helpless maiden like me.”  
  
Sir Cadogan looked indignant. “Is that a threat?”  
  
“No, it’s a promise,” Ginny said sweetly, wishing that Sir Cadogan were an actual person so she could practise the Bat Bogey Hex on him.  
  
He glared at her for a moment, then the portrait swung back. Ginny let out a silent breath of relief and climbed through, wishing that her legs were a little longer. She’d always envied Ron for being able to just step through while she had to scramble. Harry had to do the same thing, which made her feel a little better, though not much. As soon as she was through, she hurried over to the second years’ table to tell everyone that Professor Lupin had said it was okay to skip Snape’s essay (they all looked grateful) and that he was going to be back on Wednesday. Rowena slumped forward.  
  
“Thank God,” she said. “One subject with Snape is bad enough.”  
  
“Now we can actually get back to what we were supposed to be learning,” Catharine said, and everybody else nodded.  
  
“Did he tell you what was wrong?” Esmé asked.  
  
“No... I didn’t ask. Does it really matter?”  
  
“It does if Snape’s going to be taking Defence Against the Dark Arts every time he’s sick, yes!”  
  
“Even if she had asked, he probably wouldn’t have said anything,” Lewis Gudgeon pointed out. He and Colin Creevey were playing Exploding Snap at the other end of the table, so that nobody else’s eyebrows got singed off. “It’s not really any of our business why he was sick. He was, he’s better, let’s just be grateful.”  
  
“Maybe Snape poisoned him,” Colin said, drawing out another card and laying it down.  
  
Everyone thought this over. Snape’s desire for the teaching position was legendary and nobody would put it past him.  
  
“If Snape had poisoned him, he would have made sure Professor Lupin was dead so he could have the job permanently, not just one week of teaching,” Catharine said after a while. “Did Professor Lupin like the card, Ginny?”  
  
“Yes, he did. And he loved the drawing, Esmé.”  
  
“Good. Here, I did the other one for you.” Esmé took out another card, which Ginny had made all by herself. She’d drawn a Quidditch team flying in formation through a sunny sky on the front. “All that you need is the charm and it’s done.”  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
“Are you going to visit Harry?” asked Colin, looking up from his game.  
  
“You’re not going anywhere, Creevey,” Lewis warned him. “Just because you’re losing doesn’t mean I’m letting you off.”  
  
Colin stuck his tongue out. Lewis did the same, slapped a card down and shouted, “Snap!” There was a small bang and steam rose around them.  
  
“Better go before it gets ugly,” Esmé murmured and Ginny had to swallow her laugh. She took the card from Esmé and hurried off, stopping by Oliver Wood’s table on the way out.  
  
“Oi oi, Wood, new admirer,” said the other boy at Wood’s table, big, blond and brawny. “Robbing the cradle, aren’t you? She’s not even out of knee socks.” He leered at Ginny, who went bright red and glared back at him, her stomach clenching with disgust and nerves.  
  
“Piss off, McClaggan, or I’ll tell Fred and George you tried to chat up their little sister,” Wood replied in a bored tone.  
  
McClaggan paled, got up and left without a word. Wood sighed and put down his quill. “Sorry about that, Weasley. More balls than brains, if you know what I mean.”  
  
Ginny nodded. She knew exactly what he meant.  
  
“So, what can I do for you?” Wood asked. He still hadn’t completely recovered from losing the Quidditch match: his voice was flat and he looked as if he hadn’t slept at all. If he’d been nearer her own age, Ginny would have hugged him, but since that was impossible, she did the next best thing.  
  
“I want to train for Seeker,” she said.  
  
Wood’s head jerked up, almost as if she’d shocked him with her wand. He stared at her, a bit of life coming back into his eyes. “You mean it?”  
  
“Of course I mean it,” Ginny retorted. “Even if Harry gets better and gets a new broom, you still need someone on the bench, just in case it happens again. And that’s me.”  
  
Wood stared at her, his eyes burning. Ginny had the feeling that if she’d been any older, he would have hugged her. He put both hands on her shoulders and squeezed tightly. “You’re a lifesaver,” he whispered.  
  
Ginny grinned at him. “Runs in the family.”  
  
Wood swallowed visibly and said hoarsely, “Okay... from now on, you’ll be doing Seeker training instead of Chaser on Thursdays.” He turned and feverishly scribbled down something. “These are some exercises you can do to sharpen your reactions.”  
  
Ginny took the piece of paper. “Thanks. I’m going to visit him now, want me to take a message?”  
  
“Just that I hope he gets better soon, but I think he already knows that.” Wood smiled at her for a moment, then sighed and turned back to his homework. “See you on Thursday, Weasley.”  
  
Ginny nodded and left the common room. The closer she got to the hospital wing, the more her heart pounded and the more she blushed, so she pushed the door open with her face on fire and her nerves screaming. And Harry wasn’t asleep this time, he was sitting up in bed, reading a Quidditch magazine. Ginny gripped the card tightly and marched forward. _I am not going to bottle it. I am not going to run away._  
  
“Hello, Harry,” she managed.  
  
Harry looked up and he smiled, looking pleased to see her. “Hi, Ginny,” he said.  
  
Ginny’s stomach flipped over and she trembled. God, he had a nice smile... and nice eyes... _FOCUS!_ she told herself. “Are you feeling better?” she asked, perching on the edge of the chair by his bed to disguise the fact her knees were weak.  
  
“Yeah... a bit.” He glanced down at the bag by his hip, his smile fading.  
  
“I was sorry to hear about your broom,” Ginny said, her tongue loosened now that he wasn’t looking at her. “It’s a real shame.”  
  
Harry looked up, his gaze intense as he measured her sincerity. Then he nodded. “Thanks, Ginny. I know I should get rid of it... throw it away, but I can’t.”  
  
“I understand,” Ginny assured him. “It’s not easy to throw something away, especially when you really love it.”  
  
Harry’s eyes cleared and he nodded again. Perhaps he thought she’d mock him for keeping the bag. Why? Quickly, before she forgot, Ginny held out the card. “Here. I made this for you.”  
  
He took it, surprise and pleasure mixing on his face. “Thanks, Ginny.”  
  
Ginny nodded and waited, holding her breath as he opened the envelope and took out the card. He smiled at the drawing on the front and then opened it, jumping as the card started to sing in a shrill voice.  
  
_Sad to hear you’re feeling unwell  
Hope you’re better soon  
Then you’ll be back where you belong  
Flying on your new broom!_  
  
It had seemed so clever when she’d thought it up, but sitting here with him, the rhyme sounded trivial and even insensitive. How could she have put that mention of the new broom in? And she hadn’t found the charm to make it stop singing, so after a pause, the verse began again. Ginny wanted to curl up and die of embarrassment.  
  
“I’m sorry,” she burst out. “I couldn’t think of a better word to rhyme with ‘soon’ and I couldn’t find the counter charm to make it stop singing...”  
  
“It’s great,” Harry said firmly, and she looked up in surprise.  
  
“It is?”  
  
“Nobody else has given me a singing card,” Harry said, pointing to his bedside cabinet. “Plenty of silent ones, but this is the first one that sings.”  
  
Ginny looked down, though she wanted to jump around. He liked it! “If you keep it under something, it’ll stop singing... not enough space,” she explained.  
  
Harry nodded. “Thanks,” he repeated, setting the card up with the others. Ginny had no doubt that he would put it under something as soon as she was gone, but it was a nice gesture. Harry was always nice to her, she had to give him that. _When he notices you, that is,_ said a small voice, which she squashed immediately.  
  
“Well, I’d better go,” she said, standing up and clasping her hands in front of her so she didn’t fiddle with her hair or robes.  
  
Harry nodded. “Thanks for coming to visit.”  
  
“Oh... Wood said to get better soon. We all do. All the second years, I mean,” Ginny added, wondering why she had to be so tongue-tied around him. He must think she was the stupidest person alive. She had to get out of here. “Bye,” she blurted, then turned and walked very quickly out of the hospital wing, wondering if they’d ever be able to have a decent conversation. At least she’d given him the card. At least she hadn’t made a complete fool of herself. That was some sort of progress.  
  
“You gave it to him!” Rowena said as soon as she got back to the common room.  
  
Catharine whistled and clapped. “Go, Ginny, go!”  
  
“Stop it!” Ginny said, feeling her blush, which had just been starting to fade, flare up again.  
  
“Did you talk to him?” Catharine asked.  
  
“Yes...”  
  
“Whoo!” This time they all clapped.  
  
“Stop it, I mean it!” Ginny snapped, sitting down and burying her face in her arms.  
  
“What is it?” Rowena asked.  
  
“I hate this!”  
  
There was a silence. She could tell that they didn’t have any idea what she was talking about. “I hate tripping up around him and blushing and being tongue-tied and... and being a _girl_!” she finished, thumping her fists against the table.  
  
“What, you haven’t been a girl before?” Catharine asked, raising her eyebrows.  
  
“No!” Ginny retorted. “Before I was... I was me. I didn’t have a problem speaking to anyone and now all of a sudden I’m this idiot and I hate it!” She closed her eyes, swallowing, feeling them watching her.  
  
“Ginny,” Esmé said carefully. “I’m going to ask you something personal and you don’t have to answer, but... is it that time of the month?”  
  
Ginny looked up and stared at her. Catharine and Rowena were also staring at Esmé, although they looked thunderstruck. Ginny was just amazed that she hadn’t thought of it before. It would make sense. “Well,” she said, considering, “I had one in August, but not since then. Of course, Mum did say that you’re not always regular when you start.”  
  
“There you go, then. Should be over in a week or two when your... your _friend_ comes to visit.”  
  
“Just a minute!” Catharine said, making them both jump. “Ginny Weasley! Are you saying you've started your periods and you didn’t even tell us?!”  
  
Esmé smacked her on the shoulder. “Lower your voice!” she hissed. “Or do you want everyone to know about this?”  
  
Catharine looked slightly embarrassed. “Sorry,” she said, “but have you?”  
  
Ginny nodded, wishing that the floor would open up and swallow her.  
  
“Why didn’t you say something?!”  
  
“Because not everyone feels the need to announce their bodily functions to the public!” Esmé snapped. “Leave her alone, she’s sensitive at the moment.”  
  
“But it’s not fair!” Catharine protested. “She’s the youngest out of all of us, how come she started first?!”  
  
“Age has nothing to do with it!” Esmé said, glaring at her. “It’s a combination of things, and a lot of it has to do with your family. I bet Ginny’s mummy was an early starter, too.”  
  
“I can’t believe you’re the first,” Rowena said, looking wistful of all things.  
  
“It’s not a magical experience, Rowena,” Ginny said, irritated. “It means a lot of blood and general ickiness and having to go to the toilet every few hours. And that you’re ready to have babies, which is a whole world of trouble in itself. Personally, I would have been happy to wait a few more years.”  
  
“God, listen to her, moaning on about it,” Catharine muttered.  
  
“But it means you’re an _adult_, Ginny,” Rowena said, widening her eyes. “It means you’re really a woman!”  
  
Ginny could have hit her. “Oh, grow up!” she said in disgust. “It doesn’t mean anything of the sort, Rowena. It doesn’t make you an adult and it certainly doesn’t make you a woman, any more than having a baby makes you a woman. The sooner you get those ideas out of your head, the better. Because when you start, those will be the last things on your mind, trust me!” She pushed back from the table and went up to the dormitory, certain that if she stayed with them any longer, she’d end up hexing one of them. She lay down on the bed, buried her face in the pillow, and had a good cry. Through her sobs, she heard someone knock on the door.  
  
“Ginny?”  
  
“It’s all right, Esmé, you can come in,” she said, voice muffled. “I know you’re not going to say anything stupid,”  
  
Esmé got onto her bed and rubbed her back. “I’m sorry,” she said. “They didn’t mean to upset you, they just don’t know.”  
  
Ginny turned her head, looking at her. “Have you...?”  
  
Esmé shook her head. “Not yet. But Mummy’s talked to me about it and I’ve had some… some white stuff,” she added, blushing a bit. “So I think it might happen soon.”  
  
Ginny nodded. “That’s what happened with me.”  
  
“Anyway, that’s how I know about it,” Esmé repeated. “And Mummy gets like this before hers... weepy and irritable. She can’t stand to hear anyone whistling.”  
  
“My mum hates it when the boys slam doors,” Ginny said, smiling and sniffing. “Even more than usual, I mean. She once made flowers grow out of Charlie’s ears.”  
  
Esmé giggled. “Really?”  
  
“Yep. Snapdragons. Must have been a sign, now I think about it!”  
  
They both laughed. Ginny wiped the last of her tears away. “Esmé, about that dog.”  
  
Esmé looked at her, the laughter forgotten, all business. “You want to go looking for it?”  
  
“Yes, but not this term. It gets dark too soon and we shouldn’t be going around the Forbidden Forest after dark, not on our first time. We should wait until January. It’s not that long and I’m sure it’ll still be there.”  
  
Esmé nodded. “You’re probably right.”  
  
“And I think I saw Crookshanks going into the forest as well.”  
  
“Crookshanks? You mean Hermione Granger’s cat? But why would he be going in there?”  
  
“I don’t know. I saw him going in there the day of the Quidditch match.”  
  
Esmé looked sceptical. “Ginny, it was raining very hard and you weren’t exactly in your right mind.”  
  
“If you’re going to say I was hallucinating, you can bloody well stay behind!” Ginny snapped. “Besides, why on earth would I hallucinate about Crookshanks going into the forest?”  
  
Esmé shrugged. “Well, that’s the thing about hallucinations, they don’t make any sense.”  
  
“I know what I saw, Esmé. It was Crookshanks. And I know that cats like to roam, but he’s got the whole of Hogwarts and the rest of the grounds to explore, there isn’t any reason for him to go in there.”  
  
“So you think we should wait until he goes again — _if_ it was him — and then follow him?”  
  
Actually, Ginny hadn’t thought of that but it was a great idea. “Only if we can manage to keep out of sight,” she said. “If he knows we’re following him, he’ll just lose us.”  
  
“You’re talking about him like he’s a person.”  
  
“He’s not an ordinary cat, I know that much.” Ginny folded her arms. “He’s far too intelligent. There’s a brain in there, I know it when he looks at me.”  
  
Esmé looked thoughtful. “Well, he is Hermione Granger’s familiar. And cats choose their owners, so maybe he saw her and decided he’d finally found someone who was smart enough for him.”  
  
Ginny giggled. “The scary thing is, you’re probably right.”  
  
“Feeling better now?” Esmé asked, smiling.  
  
Ginny nodded, letting out a breath. “Yeah. Sorry I snapped.”  
  
Esmé shrugged. “They shouldn’t have pushed you. I told them you were sensitive. Come on, let’s see if they’ll behave themselves. They won’t get any better at being tactful around you unless they have some practice.”  
  
“Oh goody,” Ginny said dryly, and followed her downstairs.

As November changed to December and Sirius Black remained hidden, Hogwarts began to relax. The Fat Lady was still in restoration, but Professor McGonagall had assured the Gryffindors that she would be returning (and not soon enough, as far as they were all concerned). Ginny found Seeker training a refreshing change from Chaser, even though she felt that Wood was comparing her to Harry all the time. Any small mistake was analysed endlessly, each analysis invariably ending with “You can’t make that sort of mistake on the pitch, Weasley, it could cost us the game!”  
  
“Why don’t you hit him, Ginny?” asked Demelza after one particularly detailed lecture. “We’d hold him back for you.”  
  
Ginny shook her head, smiling through the tears of frustration. “No. I volunteered for this. I have to be as good as I can. That’s why he’s pushing me.”  
  
“Pushing you is fine, making you into another Harry is not,” Demelza said, frowning. “Somebody should talk to him. I don’t care what Harry was doing during _his_ second year, you’re not Harry and you never will be. If Wood wants to get the best out of you, he has to recognise that.”  
  
Ginny patted her on the back, thanking her, but she knew she wouldn’t say anything. She and Wood were driven by the same desire: to make sure that Harry never fell off his broom again. Any sign of trouble and she had to be ready to take over; no, she couldn’t be Harry, but she had to reach his level. The pressure was relieved slightly with Ravenclaw’s decisive victory against Hufflepuff and the weather improving, leaving them with clear frosty days that were perfect for practising.  
  
Christmas decorations were being put up around the castle. Professor Lupin said that they would start on the second year syllabus of Defence Against the Dark Arts in January and praised them all for their focus. Everyone collaborated on a large Christmas card for him, along with a big basket of fruit. They all agreed that he needed the vitamins and minerals. Lupin was speechless for a moment when Colin and Lewis marched up and placed it on his desk. Ginny even thought that she saw tears in his eyes, before he looked up and thanked them all with the warmest smile she’d ever seen on his face.  
  
The last weekend before the holidays was a Hogsmeade weekend, which meant Ron and Hermione could talk of nothing else. Of course Harry was staying behind again, but Fred and George told Ginny that they would make sure he wasn’t bored. They didn’t usually experiment that much on Harry, so she felt reassured. Everything was going so well that, when she received Hagrid’s owl that Saturday, Ginny automatically assumed he wanted her and Esmé to go down and have mince pies with him before they left for the holidays. Then she opened the letter and felt her stomach drop to the floor.  
  
“Oh no...”  
  
“What is it?” asked Esmé, who had become quite fond of Hagrid. Catharine and Rowena also looked up.  
  
Ginny handed the letter to Esmé and turned to the other two. “Hagrid got a letter from the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures today. The Committee’s decided that Hagrid isn’t responsible for Malfoy’s injury, but they’re going to put Buckbeak on trial.”  
  
Catharine gaped. “Put an animal on trial? How is he supposed to defend himself?”  
  
“I suppose that’s Hagrid’s job,” Rowena said, looking worried. “But I can’t really see Hagrid in a courtroom.”  
  
“Neither can I,” Ginny groaned, tipping her chair back and looking at the ceiling. “It would really be better if someone else could do it for him, but he’s the one who’s responsible for Buckbeak...”  
  
“We should go down and see him,” Esmé said, folding the letter up. “Come on, it won’t take long, he must be really upset.”  
  
However, Hagrid would not let them in, even when Rowena tapped on the window. What made it worse was that they could hear him sobbing. Eventually, Ginny wrote a letter from all of them, telling him that they’d visited and were sorry to hear about Buckbeak, but they believed in him. She pushed it under the front door and they tramped back, their holiday mood dampened. This wasn’t helped by Fred and George letting off half a dozen Dungbombs to ‘celebrate’ the end of term. They all fled upstairs to start their packing, which meant that Ginny had nothing to do that night except smile for her brothers and discuss the problem with Hermione and Ron, who were both staying at Hogwarts with Harry. She was somewhat reassured by the knowledge that they’d vowed to help Hagrid with the trial research. Eventually, Percy told her to get to bed and Ginny went upstairs, where she got into bed smiling, thinking that Hagrid was bound to win with Hermione helping him, not to mention Harry and Ron. She closed her eyes and fell asleep easily.  
  
And she was falling, falling through space, bracing herself for the landing, but it was not as she expected. Her feet landed flat on the ground and she stood there, watching as light grew around her, greenish light, as if she were underwater. The light came from torches, the torches were fixed to the walls and the walls were made of stone. She was in another corridor, but this one had no door, it just went on until it faded into black. Something soft brushed against her legs and she jumped, then she saw a bottlebrush tail waving in the light and let out a sigh of relief.  
  
_Crookshanks._ She bent down and picked him up, holding the warm furry bundle close to her chest while she looked around. _Where are we?_  
  
Crookshanks just purred, rubbing his head against her chin. Ginny’s eyes had adjusted to the light now and she could see that there were paintings on the walls. No… not just any paintings. Egyptian paintings. Hieroglyphics. She walked forward and gazed upwards. A picture of a wolf suckling human babies. Ginny smiled: Romulus and Remus, that was easy. It didn’t bother her that this was a Roman myth: why shouldn’t Egyptian writing talk about Roman myth? The next picture was a constellation and then a black dog next to it, not so easy to work out. They were obviously connected, but how? She would have to ask Hermione. Ginny squinted. The dog looked familiar. She reached out with one hand to touch it and the dog moved.  
  
Ginny laughed. Of course it would move. Only Muggle paintings stayed still and this hadn’t been painted by a Muggle. The dog jumped around for a while, as if happy to be free, then trotted over and sat by some writing she couldn’t quite understand. It was in hieroglyphs. Bill had given her a key but she didn’t have it with her. She could only stare, the image burning itself into her brain.  
  
_What does it mean, Crookshanks?_ she asked.  
  
The cat wriggled in her arms and jumped down. Ginny spun round but Crookshanks trotted away into the darkness, holding his tail high.  
  
_Wait! Crookshanks!_  
  
She heard a faint, imperious miaow, clearly telling her to follow him. Ginny looked around. She certainly couldn’t go back. She took a deep breath, lifted a torch from the wall and began to walk forwards, into the darkness…  
  
She was looking at nothing. For a moment, she thought the torch had gone out, then she realised she was awake. The image of the Egyptian writing remained in front of her eyes. She pulled back the side curtain and swung her legs so that she was sitting on the side of the bed. She opened the drawer of her bedside table and pulled out the book on hieroglyphics that Bill had given her, along with a piece of parchment, her quill and her wand. After slipping her legs back under the blankets, she whispered “Lumos” and began to carefully note down the symbols that had been in her dream. When she was finished, she stared at the sentences on the parchment. “It can’t be…” She turned once more and grabbed the book of fairytales, which she always kept on top of the bedside table for easy access. She flipped through the pages until she found the moral rhyme at the end of _Little Red Cap_.  
  
_As you’re pretty, so be wise,  
Wolves may lurk in any guise._  
  
She looked at the writing she’d deciphered from her dream.  
  
It was exactly the same.

* * *

The train ride home was full of chatter and laughter. Esmé showed Catharine how to play with Gobstones. Neville turned up around lunchtime and got involved in a debate with Rowena about whether Mandrakes preferred sugared water or salted. Luna came wandering in soon after, so she spent the rest of the afternoon with them as well. Catharine wasn’t too pleased, but Luna seemed content to read an edition of _The Quibbler_ and occasionally make remarks to Ginny or Esmé. Fred and George popped their heads in to say hello. Percy came by and stood in the doorway for a full ten minutes, lecturing them about their O.W.L. choices. He was eventually distracted by someone running along the corridor.  
  
“Really loves the sound of his own voice, doesn’t he?” Catharine said, staring after him.  
  
“You have to shout in our family if you want to make yourself heard,” Ginny said, feeling the need to defend Percy, even though she’d wanted to die of embarrassment during his speech.  
  
“He’ll be a good politician then,” Catharine remarked.  
  
All too soon, the train was pulling into Kings Cross and they were leaving, promising to write to each other over the holidays. There was Mum, waving, with a couple of luggage trolleys. Ginny ran forward and threw her arms around her, overwhelmed by a sudden wave of relief.  
  
“Hello, Mum,” she whispered.  
  
“Hello, darling. How are you?” She put her hands on Ginny’s shoulders, gazing into her eyes. When she was younger, Ginny had thought this was how Mum read her mind. She turned her head and pulled away.  
  
“Fine, Mum. What else would I be?”  
  
“Well, that’s why I’m asking.”  
  
“Hello, Mother,” Percy said importantly, bending down and pecking her on the cheek. “Won’t be a moment, Penelope wants to introduce me to her parents.”  
  
“We haven’t got all day, Percy!” Fred called after him.  
  
“Fred!” Mum said, frowning. “Don’t be rude. I’m sure Penelope’s parents are very interested in what Percy has to say.”  
  
“That’s because they haven’t met him,” Fred retorted. Mum frowned again and he kissed her on one cheek. “You know I’m only joking, Mum.”  
  
“Darling Mum, how we’ve missed you,” George added, kissing her on the other. “Can’t wait to get home and taste that cooking of yours.”  
  
“Absolutely,” Fred agreed, “we’ve been pining for it...”  
  
“Starving...”  
  
“Mourning...”  
  
“Wasting away, just look at us,” George ended, and they leaned against each other as if they were too weak to walk.  
  
Ginny giggled, putting a hand over her mouth. Mum shook her head but Ginny could see that she was trying not to laugh. “Honestly...”  
  
Fortunately, Percy only took five minutes (probably thanks to Penelope’s influence) and then they all took the Floo back to the Burrow. Ginny stepped out and breathed in the rich smell of beef stew, which Mum always made for them when they came back home. Everything was just the same: the knitted throw over the old sofa, the peach velvet armchair with its velvet rubbed off, the strings of onion and garlic hanging from the kitchen ceiling. She hurried over to look at the clock. Ron’s hand was still pointing at ‘School’. Dad’s hand pointed to ‘Work’, as did Bill and Charlie’s hands, though this wasn’t always the case with her eldest brothers. Charlie’s hand regularly visited the ‘Hospital’ spot, causing much wringing of hands, but usually it was somebody else injured and not him; Bill’s hand occasionally switched to ‘Mortal Peril’, which meant that Mum spent the rest of the day trying to find out what was going on, usually to no avail. Bill sometimes sent a note to let her know he was still alive, but it was his clock hand which usually let them know he was okay, by moving back to ‘Work’.  
  
“George, take Ginny’s trunk up with you as well,” Mum said, stepping out of the hearth and brushing herself down.  
  
“Oh no, that’s okay, I can do it myself, Mum,” Ginny objected, turning.  
  
“You’re still too small to carry a great big trunk all the way to your room,” Mum said, hanging up her cloak. “George doesn’t mind doing it, do you, George?”  
  
George shook his head, cheeks puffing out as he lifted the trunk. Ginny hurried up the stairs after him. “You can put it down when we get to my landing, I can drag it from there,” she told him.  
  
“It’s fine, Ginny, really. I don’t mind.”  
  
“I know you don’t, but I don’t like Mum just assuming that,” Ginny said, frowning.  
  
George glanced at her over his shoulder and smiled. “You’re my little sister, Ginny. She doesn’t assume. She knows.”  
  
“But...”  
  
“If you could open your door, that would be a big help.”  
  
Ginny sighed in defeat and opened her door. George carried the trunk through and put it on her bed. “There. Now you can drag it off when it’s empty, happy?”  
  
“When we come home for Easter, _I’m_ going to carry it up here.”  
  
“Better start telling Mum now, then, so she gets used to the idea,” George said with a wink, and closed the door.  
  
Ginny opened her trunk, took everything out, closed the trunk, dumped it at the end of her bed, and collapsed across the bed with a great sigh. Even if Harry was at the other end of the country, it was great to be home. She’d just have a small rest and then she’d unpack.  
  
The next moment, Mum was closing the curtains because it was dark outside.  
  
“Oh,” Ginny said, realising that she’d fallen asleep and sitting up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I was going to unpack.”  
  
“That’s all right.” Mum sat down on the bed and stroked her hair. “It’s been a long day. Did you sleep well?”  
  
“Oh yes,” Ginny said without thinking. “I mean… it’s not so bad now,” she added, flushing with guilt. “One of my teachers has been helping me. Professor Lupin.”  
  
“Percy’s mentioned him in his letters and the twins have been telling me all about their lessons with him,” Mum said, still stroking her hair. “He sounds like a very clever man, very nice.”  
  
Ginny nodded, leaning against her and resting her head on Mum’s shoulder, which was as comfortable as ever. “He is nice… Mum…”  
  
Mum kissed her cheek. “Yes, dear?”  
  
“The thing is... he makes me blush.”  
  
“Professor Lupin does?”  
  
“Yes. But it’s not like Harry,” Ginny added, trying to sort it out in her mind. “I mean, I’m not tongue-tied at all. I can look him in the eye and I can talk to him and we can discuss things. But sometimes I just go _red_. And I hate it.”  
  
“It’s your age,” Mum said, her tone sympathetic. “You’ll find you start blushing at the silliest things. A girl’s body goes a little haywire from thirteen to fifteen, Ginny, and there’s nothing you can do about it. Hormones. I know that doesn’t help you to feel better, but don’t let these blushes get in the way of things. Is he good looking?”  
  
“Oh no,” Ginny said immediately, then stopped. “Well... um... I don’t think you’d look at him and say he was handsome, but... he has a nice face. Friendly. Intelligent. And he’s really good at listening to you.”  
  
“Mm, it’s always nice to find someone who will listen to you,” Mum agreed. “Makes you feel more confident. I felt like that when I met your father – though I doubt you and Professor Lupin will get married,” she added with a laugh, kissing Ginny’s cheek again. “But it is very flattering to have an older man listen to you, especially if he’s intelligent and friendly and you want him to approve of you. I felt a bit fluttery around one of my teachers at your age, but don’t worry. It should pass.”  
  
Ginny snuggled into her. “Good. It’s bad enough that I act like an idiot around Harry.”  
  
“Oh darling...”  
  
“I can’t even _speak_ to him, Mum! I gave him a card when he was in the hospital wing after that Quidditch match and I could barely get the words out. I wanted to crawl into a hole and die.” She thumped the bed with one loose fist. “He must think I’m the stupidest girl at Hogwarts.”  
  
“Nonsense,” said Mum briskly, “nobody could ever think you’re stupid, you’re my daughter. And I’m sure Harry doesn’t think you’re stupid, just shy. And people overcome their shyness, Ginny. You’ll see. It will happen. You just...”  
  
“Have to be patient,” Ginny finished. “I know.”  
  
“Well, if you know, there’s no point in worrying, is there?” Mum stroked her hair one last time and stood up. “Come on. I’ll help you unpack.”  
  
Ginny stood up with her, feeling happier despite everything. Talking to Mum often seemed to have that effect on her; the problem was that Mum didn’t always have much time to talk and even if she did have the time, she was usually doing something else: washing up, knitting, cleaning... It wouldn’t have been so bad if she’d let Ginny help her, but Mum never let anyone else do the big household tasks. Ginny thought that Mum was a bit too possessive about the house. At this rate, the boys would grow up with no idea of how to cook for themselves, let alone clean. It was amazing that Bill and Charlie knew as much as they did.  
  
Ginny suddenly breathed in. Bill and Charlie! She would be speaking to at least one of them over the holidays and the thought made her want to dance for joy. Suddenly, she couldn’t wait for Christmas Day.  
  
Christmas Day dawned crisp and clear and Ginny woke up with the warm lump of her stocking over her feet. She drew in a breath for a moment, savouring the anticipation, then sat up and turned the stocking upside down, suppressing squeals of delight as various tiny parcels tumbled out. Most of them were ribbons, hair clips and earrings. Her ears weren’t pierced yet but she’d ground Mum down from seventeen to thirteen, so she only had to wait eight more months, and had asked all her female relatives to send earrings in preparation for this event. The twins banged on her door at eight o’clock and looked disconcerted when she pulled it open, fully dressed. Ginny just smirked at them. Since Ron was at Hogwarts this year, Percy was next on the list of people to be woken. The twins thumped and hollered until he emerged, blinking at them from behind his glasses like a sleepy owl. Ginny felt a great rush of affection for him, but the twins had already hooked their arms around his elbows and were now frogmarching him down the stairs. She ran ahead of them around the corner and knocked on Mum and Dad’s door, three sharp raps. There was muttering and then Dad’s voice calling out, “Come in!”  
  
Ginny slipped through and felt the door magically seal behind her, so the twins couldn’t barge through. Mum was still hidden under the covers, but Dad was sitting up. The hair around the back of his head was pushed up in spikes _(like Harry’s)_. He smiled, Ron’s smile.  
  
“Happy Christmas, sweetheart.”  
  
“Happy Christmas, Daddy,” she replied, walking forward and kissing him on his sleep-warm cheek.  
  
He hugged her with one arm. “Twins up?” he asked as the thuds began.  
  
“Up and raring to open their presents,” she confirmed.  
  
“Is Percy with them?” Mum mumbled.  
  
Ginny giggled. “Yes, Mum, of course.”  
  
“Good.” Mum turned over. “Then they can make us both tea and Percy can keep an eye on them.”  
  
Ginny licked her lips. “Mum, it’s Christmas,” she said, making her voice as soft as possible, “can’t Percy have a break?”  
  
“He won’t mind.”  
  
No, Ginny thought as Dad prepared to get up. That was Percy’s problem in a nutshell. He didn’t mind being told what to do. In fact, he _loved_ being told what to do, as long as it was within the rules. But it was Christmas, and she wasn’t going to worry about that today. Today was for presents and games and family.  
  
As usual, their large presents were in the sitting room, the ribbons gleaming softly in the firelight (lit by Percy). Most of Ginny’s presents were cardigans, pants and bra sets, some make-up – girly things. As the first girl to be born into the Weasley family for generations, she often received more presents than her brothers, as their relatives tended to go overboard.  
  
“We all told your mother she was a fool to keep going,” Great Auntie Muriel quavered year after year at the New Year’s party, oblivious to Mum’s glares. “After all, there hadn’t been a girl in the Weasleys for years… but I suppose you had to come along eventually.”  
  
The day was divided between families: the Prewett relatives called in the morning, the Weasley ones in the afternoon. While Ginny loved talking to Granny and Grandpa Prewett, who called her _genethig_, it was the afternoon she loved best, because that was when she heard from Charlie and Bill.  
  
Charlie called first, because he was only an hour ahead of them. Just seeing his broad face beaming at her in the fire made Ginny swallow, but she didn’t cry. He would think something was wrong, and nothing was wrong. Everything was just right. He asked her about school. She told him about Hagrid being the new Care of Magical Creatures teacher, and Charlie whooped, jumped and then winced as he banged his head on the hearth in Romania. She told him about trying out for Seeker on the Quidditch team and she told him about how the girls in her dormitory were supporting her.  
  
“Charlie, there’s a girl in my dorm called Esmé, she wants to go into magical conservation as well. I said that I’d ask you about contacts and things.”  
  
Charlie grinned. “Recruiting from the inside? I like it. I’ll write down a list of people and books she should read — _interesting_ books, mind you — and send it by special owl so it gets to you on the Monday you go back to school. Sound fair?”  
  
“Yes! Thank you!”  
  
“Sounds like you’re making some friends, Ginny. I’m glad.”  
  
Ginny nodded. She didn’t think she could manage words. Charlie gave her a gentle smile. “I’ll say goodbye to Mum and Dad now. See you soon.”  
  
Ginny barely heard him. “Okay. Bye,” she said, and scrambled off her knees, calling to her parents. Then grabbed one of the books her relatives had sent her (_Spells For The Growing Witch: Puberty, PMS and Pimples!_), curled up in an armchair and proceeded to study the same page for the next five minutes with great intensity. She ignored the twins trying to lasso Percy with tinsel and didn’t look up until Mum said, “Ginny? Bill’s here.”  
  
Ginny jumped up and hurried to the fire. “Bill!” she said, and then she couldn’t think of what to say. She wanted to reach out and hug him, touch him, tell him everything that had happened, but not with the rest of the family around. He smiled at her, the one which made the skin around his eyes crinkle. He had premature wrinkles around there from squinting against the sun so much, but Ginny thought they made him look dashing, not old.  
  
“What’s Christmas like in Egypt?” she asked for want of something to say, even though she’d asked him that same question when they’d visited him earlier in the summer. It was still strange for her to think that he was four hours ahead and the day was almost over for him  
  
“They don’t celebrate Christmas here, Ginny. Makes me miss Mum’s cooking even more! But we have our own small celebration. Sing the traditional songs, eat something which they _say_ is turkey. We’re just about to get drunk on the Christmas pudding…”  
  
She giggled and his smile softened. “How’s Christmas been for you?”  
  
“Ron stayed at Hogwarts with Harry but everybody else is here. It’s been good. I wish you were here, though. And Charlie.”  
  
“Well, you’ll get your wish, though not for Christmas.”  
  
Her heart leapt. “You mean–?!”  
  
“I’ve got permission to come home for the World Cup and Charlie says his holiday is almost a sure thing. So you’ll be seeing us this July, Ginny.”  
  
Ginny squealed out loud. She wanted to leap into the fire and hug him, but instead, she jumped up and shouted the news to her parents and her brothers, then danced a jig with Fred and George while Mum and Dad made Bill repeat his surprise news two or three times. The glow of delight lasted all of Christmas Day and Boxing Day; not even a strangely short letter from Hermione dampened it. It was only when she returned to Hogwarts that Ginny realised there had been trouble lurking behind that letter.  
  
Ron and Harry were not only ignoring Hermione, they weren’t even walking around with her or sitting at the same table. When she saw this, Ginny felt her skin prickle with unease, but she knew better than to ask Ron what was wrong. She would not get the full story. So she waited and watched until Harry and Ron were engaged in a game of chess, then crept along to the library, where Hermione was doing some ‘background reading’. She didn’t even look up as Ginny approached the table. This was really bad.  
  
“Hello, Hermione,” she began, sitting down.  
  
“Hello, Ginny,” said Hermione, in what was obviously meant to be a bright, careless voice. “How was your Christmas?”  
  
“Good. I talked to Charlie and Bill by Floo... They’re coming back to England this summer, I’d love for you to come and meet them.”  
  
“I’m not sure Ron would like that,” Hermione said quickly.  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“Haven’t you talked to him?”  
  
“No, and he hasn’t said anything to me. That’s why I wanted to talk to you first.” Ginny carefully moved a pile of books to one side so she could see Hermione’s face properly. The older girl looked pale. “Hermione, what’s going on?”  
  
Hermione’s lip trembled for a moment. She put down her quill and pushed her hair back from her face. For a moment, she looked very young and very lost. “I did the right thing, Ginny. I know I did the right thing, but... but I hate this.” Her voice shrank and quivered.  
  
“What did you do?” Ginny prompted, leaning forward.  
  
Hermione rubbed one cheek, leaving a trace of ink across her skin, and sighed. “Harry got a Firebolt for Christmas.”  
  
Ginny felt her heart stop and then leap up in shock and joy. A Firebolt! She’d seen the pictures, she’d seen the model last summer in Diagon Alley, but to think Harry actually had one... “That’s amazing, Hermione! He can play for the team again. We can’t lose, nobody’ll be able to keep up with him—!”  
  
“I haven’t finished,” Hermione said, biting her lip.  
  
Ginny stopped, trying to contain herself. “What?”  
  
“There was no note with the Firebolt, Ginny, nothing to say who’d sent it,” Hermione told her, her voice growing stronger.  
  
“Nothing?” Ginny repeated. “But who...?”  
  
“Exactly!” Hermione exclaimed. A fierce ‘Shhh!’ hissed through the air and they looked up to see Madam Pince glaring at them from behind her desk. Both of them hunched down and lowered their voices automatically.  
  
“Harry had no idea where it had come from. It certainly wasn’t his aunt and uncle. Even if they cared, how could they know about a Firebolt, let alone buy one? Your mum sent him a jumper and some sweets, it wasn’t from Ron or me, and it wasn’t from Hagrid.”  
  
“So...”  
  
“I thought it might be from Sirius Black.”  
  
Ginny had to bite her tongue to stop herself shouting. “Sirius Black?! How on earth would he buy a Firebolt, Hermione?!”  
  
“Same way he escaped from Azkaban!” Hermione retorted, eyes narrow. “Anyway, there are still plenty of supporters of You-Know-Who around, we both know that, any one of them could have bought it for him.”  
  
Ginny frowned. Much as she hated to admit it, Hermione had a point. “But the last sighting of Black was here in Scotland...”  
  
Hermione shrugged. “Owl post.”  
  
“And why would Sirius Black send Harry a _Firebolt_ of all things?”  
  
“To kill him of course!” Hermione glanced nervously at Mrs Pinch and moved even closer. “You weren’t there in our first year when Quirrell made Harry’s broom act up in mid-game. It was terrifying, he could have died! I won’t let that happen again.”  
  
“Hermione, what did you _do_?”  
  
Hermione lifted her chin, the defiant gesture belied by the tears glimmering in her eyes. “I went and told McGonagall about the Firebolt. I had to, for Harry’s sake.”  
  
Ginny wasn’t sure whether to bang her own head against the table or Hermione’s. No wonder Ron and Harry weren’t talking to her, no wonder they were ignoring her. “Hermione, what were you _thinking_ — no, wait, I know what you were thinking. You were worried about Harry, you just wanted to protect him.”  
  
Hermione looked relieved. “Thank you, Ginny. At least someone understands–”  
  
“But that _doesn’t_ explain why you felt you had to go behind Harry’s back in order to do that!” Ginny hissed. “Yes, I understand your reasons for doing it, but I also understand why they’re so angry at you!”  
  
“So you’re taking their side?” Hermione demanded, her voice rising.  
  
“I’m not taking anyone’s side! I’m simply trying to make you see... Hermione, you didn’t even let Harry know that you were going to McGonagall. You took the decision out of his hands, you decided what was best for him – _you acted like a grown up_.”  
  
Hermione’s lower lip pushed out and she looked mulish. “It was the right thing to do!”  
  
“Congratulations, Percy would be so proud of you,” Ginny said, unable to control the scorn in her voice. “The least you could have done was told him to his face!”  
  
“He would have yelled at me!”  
  
“So what? I’m practically yelling at you now, you don’t seem to have a problem. You and Ron spend half your lives yelling at each other and that doesn’t bother you!”  
  
“You don’t understand, when Harry yells, it’s different! He just explodes... you can’t get a word in edgeways.”  
  
“Then tell him to shut up! You have no problem telling Ron. All I’m saying is that you could have let Harry know, Hermione. Like I said, I understand why you did it. But the boys... they won’t. Boys don’t think like that.”  
  
“I’m finding that out for myself, thank you,” Hermione said, the sharp words belied by the misery in her expression.  
  
“Then let’s hope there aren’t any jinxes on the Firebolt,” Ginny answered and left it at that, wondering how Hermione could be so stupid about boys when she’d known Ron and Harry for two years now.  
  
“She hasn’t grown up in a family of six brothers?” Catharine suggested when Ginny brought this up as they were doing the last of their holiday homework. “It makes a difference, you know.”  
  
Esmé agreed. “You’ve got a unique perspective on the male mind. The rest of us are wandering around in the dark, praying we don’t fall off a cliff. But I’m sure they’ll make it up sooner or later.”  
  
Ginny sighed. “Maybe, but I’ve never seen it this bad before. Normally it’s just Ron who’s mad at Hermione... but Harry’s mad, too, and he isn’t as forgiving.”  
  
“How do you know?” Catharine demanded.  
  
She couldn’t tell them that she would have felt the same way. They would think that was weird. “Because he feels that Hermione betrayed him by going to McGonagall.”  
  
“But she only did it because she was worried,” Rowena protested.  
  
“And she might have completely ruined our chance to win the Quidditch Cup in the process!” Esmé exclaimed. “It’s not just about Harry, the whole Quidditch team’s depending on him being able to play in the next match!”  
  
“Ginny could play.”  
  
“No, I couldn’t. Even if I was up to Harry’s level, and I’m not, I would still be playing on a school broom. Malfoy’s got a Nimbus Two Thousand and One, he’d leave me standing,” Ginny said gloomily. “So Harry _has_ to have that broom back.”  
  
“At least Ravenclaw lost to Slytherin. If we beat them, we’ll be in second place,” Rowena said, trying to cheer her up. Ginny wished she could be that optimistic.  
  
The situation did not improve. Hermione was looking more stressed every day. Harry and Ron were still ignoring her and there was nothing Ginny could do. She was well aware that her own influence over Ron was minimal when he was this upset and as for speaking to Harry... just the idea of sitting down and discussing his anger with Hermione was both laughable and terrifying. When she tried to talk to Hermione about taking a break, all she got for her pains was a snappish “There’s no need to worry about me!”  
  
To make matters worse, her dream progress had stagnated. There were no more dark tunnels, no hieroglyphs. Now she was dreaming about someone else’s problems: Hermione standing on a small island in the middle of the ocean, while Harry and Ron sat in a boat with their backs to her, playing Exploding Snap. Sometimes Hermione was in a boat instead, but the theme was the same: the island began to disappear or the boat began to sink, and Hermione was too proud to call out to the boys, who were completely oblivious to her plight. Ginny was in a small dinghy or on a raft, but no matter how she paddled, how she yelled, Hermione usually ended up drowning and she would be shaken awake by Rowena, who’d heard her crying out in her sleep. Due to these dreams, Ginny had a sore throat for much of January and February and her spellwork suffered accordingly.  
  
“Ginny, I know you’ll be sick of me saying this, but this process requires patience,” Professor Lupin stated when she complained. “Trying to force your dreams is just as dangerous in its way as refusing to follow them. It’s natural you should be worried about your friends –”  
  
“I don’t want to be worried! I don’t want to care!” She shoved the chair back, mute with fury, the same fury she’d felt when Mum had first explained that she couldn’t go to Hogwarts with Bill. She could feel his eyes on her but she didn’t look up.  
  
“It would be nice if our friends could just take care of themselves, wouldn’t it?” he agreed, his voice so mild, so pleasant that she was surprised into looking at him.  
  
“Y-yes...”  
  
“And then we could just carry on with our lives, not needing people, not having them rely on us,” he went on, getting up and looking out of the window, the winter light picking out every line on his face. “Brave and alone.”  
  
Ginny felt her stomach curl. She remembered being alone. It was lying on a cold stone floor, chest aching as you fought to breathe, listening to a cold high voice ramble on and on about what he’d do once Harry arrived. It had nothing to do with being brave. And she realised he was looking at her again, that sudden shrewd glance he used to such effect in class. She swallowed hard and said nothing.  
  
Professor Lupin waited another moment and then spoke again. “It’s good that you’re concerned about your friends, Ginny,” he said. “Remember, I told you that you have to live your life. Your friends are an important part of your life. Don’t cut them out.”  
  
Ginny nodded, subdued, and pushed the chair back. She was almost at the door when he called her name. She turned. “Sir?”  
  
Professor Lupin looked as if he were fighting himself. “You haven’t seen that dog again, have you?” he asked.  
  
Ginny hesitated. She didn’t know whether he wanted to hear yes or no. She thought of the last time she’d seen the dog, on that rainy day when the Dementors were on the Quidditch pitch. She thought of how Professor Lupin had looked back then, pale and determined, like a soldier going into battle.  
  
“Not since I came back,” she said. It was technically the truth.  
  
He nodded with a faint smile and she left. She headed straight for the common room, sat down beside Esmé and said, “Next Sunday, we’re going to the forest to look for the dog.”  
  
Esmé didn’t start or look at her with wide eyes. She kept practising the wand movements for the Heating Charm, but instead of speaking the incantation, she said quietly, “Why Sunday?”  
  
“Because Saturday’s Quidditch, and Professor Lupin just asked me about the dog again.”  
  
“And?”  
  
“He knows something about it, I don’t know what, but he knows something.”  
  
“And we’re going to interrogate the dog about this once we find him?” Esmé muttered.  
  
“No... look, Crookshanks is mixed up in this as well.” She turned and looked at the cat, currently asleep on Hermione’s lap like a heap of orange wool. “I’m sure that if we follow him... we’ll figure it out.”  
  
“And maybe he’ll lead us to Sirius Black,” Esmé remarked with a smirk.  
  
Ginny stuck her tongue out. “I’m not _that_ unrealistic, thank you very much!”

* * *

They spent the next week planning how they’d do it. This meant doing each day’s homework that same night, which made Rowena and Catharine look at them strangely, but they both knew there was no point in telling the other two girls. Rowena was too scared of the forest and Catharine would let the rest of the year know within ten minutes, she just wouldn’t be able to help herself. Ginny had made a note of Crookshanks’s appearances and disappearances. He usually vanished sometime on Sunday afternoon and since she wasn’t seeing Professor Lupin every week now, she had no meeting to miss. They just had to keep an eye on Crookshanks. Wood was now so nervous about the upcoming match that he asked Ginny to come and practise with them on Friday lunchtime.  
  
“But that’s great, Ginny!” said Neville as she walked back from the pitch (he usually turned up to watch her and cheer her on, even if the girls couldn’t). “You get to show everyone how good you are!”  
  
“Yes, including my brothers, and they don’t even know that I’ve been trying out.”  
  
Neville looked puzzled. “Why not?”  
  
“Because...” Ginny sighed. “Percy would say that I’m still too small to be up with all that pushing and the Bludgers; Fred and George would spend most of their time beating the Bludgers away from me; and Ron would try and be a big brother and order me around.”  
  
“That’s funny,” Neville said thoughtfully, “I’ve never thought of Ron as bossy.”  
  
“He isn’t normally, but he’s got five older brothers and only one younger sister. Every one of them tells him what to do, so he tries to tell me what to do. But he’s not quite big enough for me to listen,” she added with a wink. Neville grinned quickly in response. “Do you want me to wait for you?” he asked as they arrived at the changing rooms.  
  
“No... You should check on Hermione.” Neville had been one of the few people talking to Hermione in recent weeks, which was pretty brave considering that most Gryffindors were avoiding her for what she’d done to their Quidditch chances. He nodded, sighed and began to walk away.  
  
“Hey, are you all right with the password?” Ginny called after him. “I don’t mean to be rude, but—”  
  
“Nah, it’s okay, I wrote all this month’s passwords down!” Neville called back with a smile. “No way Sir Cadogan can keep me out!”  
  
“Just don’t let any of the Slytherins get them!”  
  
“No fear!” He grinned and hurried off. It was nice to see him happy, Ginny reflected. All too often, Neville had a harried or unhappy look from his face, and if he’d just come from Potions, he looked as if he wanted to crawl under a rock.  
  
When she came back, the common room was in the midst of a celebration.  
  
“Harry’s got the Firebolt back!” Fred shouted, catching her by the waist and spinning her around in the air.  
  
“What? When?!”  
  
“Just now!” George laughed, taking her from Fred and spinning her the other way, as if she were still six. “McGonagall says it’s all right, he can play!”  
  
Ginny whooped and hugged him round the neck. George put her down and pointed at the fireplace, where Wood was standing with a Butterbeer in his hand and the light of battle in his eyes, already detailing his game plan. Ginny laughed. Even though a small part of her was sad that her Seeker training was at an end, she was happy for Harry. She’d only ever been a stand-in and the important thing was that they could now win the Cup. She turned towards Harry, who was sitting with Hermione, the fight over now he’d got his broom back. Ginny started forward, so happy that she was sure she could manage to congratulate him without tripping over her feet, but before she was halfway across the room, there was a horrible cry from the staircase and the sound of running footsteps.  
  
Everybody stopped talking and laughing. There was an eerie silence as the footsteps grew louder and louder, then Ron burst through the entryway dragging a bedsheet behind him. In other circumstances, the scene would have been hilarious but Ron’s expression was so dreadful that nobody dared say a word. “LOOK!” he yelled, thrusting the sheets in Hermione’s face. “LOOK!”  
  
“Ron, what – ?”  
  
“SCABBERS! LOOK! SCABBERS!”  
  
Ginny couldn’t see what Ron’s bedsheet had to do with Scabbers. But then she saw the dark stains on the white cotton and suddenly she knew why Ron was reacting this way and her heart broke.  
  
_Oh Ron…_  
  
“BLOOD!” Ron yelled, his voice on the verge of breaking. “HE’S GONE! AND YOU KNOW WHAT WAS ON THE FLOOR?”  
  
“N-no,” Hermione said nervously, but Ginny knew already. She recognised the sick feeling in her stomach. It had been there last year when she woke up and saw the blood on her clothes, the chicken feathers sticking to her robes…  
  
“GINGER HAIRS!” Ron shouted, breaking her horrible reverie. “YOUR CAT _MURDERED_ SCABBERS, HERMIONE! ADMIT IT! HE DELIBERATELY WENT IN THERE AND GOT HIM!”  
  
“Ron, don’t be stupid!” Hermione said, standing up and backing away from the bloodstained sheet. Ginny groaned inside her head. Calling Ron stupid was about the worst thing Hermione could have done. “Just because you found some cat hairs beside your bed,” Hermione went on, sounding like Professor McGonagall, “you can’t automatically assume that Crookshanks – ”  
  
“He had it in for Scabbers from the moment he saw him!” Ron accused. “Didn’t he, Harry?!”  
  
“Yeah,” Harry said reluctantly, his eyes flicking from Ron to Hermione with understandable wariness. “But...”  
  
“You don’t have any proof!” Hermione snapped. “For all you know, those hairs could have been there since Christmas. There aren’t any remains. You just don’t like him because he jumped on your head!”  
  
“Evidence? You want evidence? Crookshanks is after Scabbers – he keeps trying to get at him – I find Scabbers’s blood on my bedsheet with Crookshanks’ hairs – may not be evidence but it’s a _logical_ conclusion!” Ron shouted, placing a great deal of emphasis of on the word ‘logical’.  
  
Hermione went scarlet. “If you care about him so much, why don’t you look under the other beds before wrongfully accusing my cat?!”  
  
Ron rolled his eyes. “What, so I can find his bones and finally make you admit you’re wrong?!”  
  
“I’m _not_ wrong.” Hermione stood up, shoulders hunched. “Scabbers _will_ turn up, Ron, and when he does, you’ll have to apologise!”  
  
“Yeah, he’ll turn up – dead! Then you’ll have to apologise, and it’ll do you GOOD!” Ron shouted, his face just as red as Hermione’s.  
  
Hermione sucked in a breath. She gathered all her books in her arms. “Excuse me,” she said, her voice trembling. “I’m going to study upstairs.” She marched past Ron and up the staircase. Ron dropped into a chair, still clutching the sheet, his head bowed, his lips pulled tight. Harry was staring at him, his eyes wide with shock. Uncaring of his presence for once, Ginny ran forward and put her arm around Ron’s shoulders.  
  
“Oh Ron,” she said softly. “I’m so sorry.”  
  
She felt Ron’s shoulders jerk once. “I’m all right,” he said, his voice now so low that she could barely hear him. It was such an obvious lie that Ginny didn’t even bother to answer him. She looked up and met Harry’s gaze, and she knew they were both thinking the same thing: how could Ron and Hermione ever come back from this?  
  
The situation did not improve in the coming days. Fred and George tried to help by being upbeat.  
  
“Come on, Ron,” said Fred, “you were always saying how boring Scabbers was. And he’s been off-colour for ages, he was wasting away. It was probably better for him to snuff it quickly. One swallow – he probably didn’t feel a thing.”  
  
Ginny briefly considered hitting him. _“Fred!”_ she snapped, giving him Mum’s glare. He shrank a bit, which Ginny took as a compliment.  
  
“All he did was eat and sleep, Ron, you said it yourself,” George pointed out, less blunt but not exactly helpful.  
  
“He bit Goyle for us once! Remember, Harry?” Ron asked, desperate for some back up.  
  
“Yeah, that’s true,” Harry agreed.  
  
Fred’s mouth began to twitch. “His finest hour... Let the scar on Goyle’s finger stand as a lasting tribute to his memory.” George snorted and they both laughed. Ron turned away from them. Fred rolled his eyes briefly. “Oh, come on, Ron, get yourself down to Hogsmeade and buy a new rat. What’s the point of moaning?”  
  
“Custard,” Ginny said, too low for Harry or Ron to hear, but the twins heard. Both of them looked suddenly wary and they disappeared: she’d been the one who’d told Mum about them using Custard as a practice Bludger, which had led to a lot of yelling and a lot of housework. Ron had inherited Scabbers from Percy soon afterwards.  
  
Percy had actually been quite sympathetic about the loss of his old rat, telling Ron that he’d taken good care of Scabbers while he was alive, but it seemed that Ron was inconsolable. The girls had differing ideas. Catharine went on about Hermione “denying him closure”, whatever that was. Esmé wondered if he’d prefer something “with a bit more spirit”. Rowena seemed to believe that the whole situation was inevitable.  
  
The only bright spot was the Quidditch match on Saturday. Gryffindor won by 220 points to zero, despite a rather amusing attempt by the Slytherin team to sabotage Harry by wearing Dementor robes. The Gryffindor Cup hopes were back on track and the party in the common room lasted long into the night, helped by Fred and George producing crates of Butterbeer and bags of sweets. Ginny caught glimpses of Hermione sitting at a table trying to do her homework. Harry was sitting by her, obviously trying to persuade her to join in. Hermione shook her head. She looked paler than ever. Ron’s voice rose above the crowd.  
  
“If Scabbers hadn’t just been _eaten_, he could have had some of these Fudge Flies, he used to really like them...”  
  
At this, Hermione grabbed her book and rushed upstairs. Ginny sighed and turned away. What could she do? Nothing. She was helpless. Again.  
  
The party was eventually broken up by Professor McGonagall, who turned up in her dressing gown and insisted that everyone go to bed. Although they all protested at this, Ginny had to admit she was glad. It had been a long, emotionally draining day and she was exhausted. As soon as she lay down, she had that strange, familiar sensation of falling, falling down, down into deep darkness...  
  
At first she had no idea where she was, only that she was moving, floating in that swift, silent way she knew from when she’d walked towards the door. Water dripped somewhere nearby. Then she heard a scrabbling and a scratching in front of her. Ginny shivered but she went forward, determined to find out what it was. Light bloomed around her, blue and flickering, reflected from the invisible but audible water.  
  
It was the tunnel. She couldn’t quite believe for a moment that she was back here, but there was Crookshanks, tail held high, waiting for her. She followed him and the tunnel went down. Sometimes she caught glimpses of more hieroglyphs on the walls, but the light was not strong enough to read them. The scratching sound grew louder, then she heard squeaking, and she saw it was Scabbers. He was running from side to side and clawing at the walls of the tunnel.  
  
_Scabbers!_ She turned. _Oh Crookshanks, you were just hiding him here, weren’t you?_ Crookshanks bumped his head against her ankle, purring, and Ginny knelt down. _It’s all right, Scabbers,_ she murmured, trying to catch hold of him. _I’m here. You don’t have to hide anymore._  
  
_He wasn’t hiding from the cat... he was hiding from me..._  
  
Ginny froze. She knew that voice. She knew that voice. She stood up, and there were two yellow orbs in the dark, and they were coming closer, and she knew what they were and it was the voice, his voice.  
  
_He was hiding from me, little girl... just as you are... but I’ve found him and now I’ve found you and you’ll lead me to Harry Potter._  
  
And the great snake reared above her, the deadly eyes glowing, and the mouth opened, a great dark hole framed with glistening fangs. Crookshanks yowled in fear and the mouth came smashing down towards her, and Ginny screamed in terror, trying to get away, but the teeth were already crushing her and she was getting sucked in, he was swallowing her and she couldn’t stop him, she couldn’t stop him, he was taking everything–!  
  
_“No!”_  
  
Then she was wide awake, clawing at blankets, thrashing and kicking, until they fell away and she lay there, hands pressed over her mouth to suffocate the screams that rose in her throat, stifling them to whispers, tears filling her eyes.  
  
He hadn’t gone away. He was still inside her, and he was out there, too, waiting in the dark for his chance. He had Scabbers and he would get her, too. It made no sense and yet deep inside, it made perfect sense. She’d betrayed Harry before, why not again? _But I didn’t mean to!_ she thought angrily. _I didn’t mean to and what has Scabbers got to do with that? Why was he there at all? Scabbers has nothing to do with Tom!_  
  
“It doesn’t make any sense,” she murmured.  
  
Then a door banged and she nearly jumped out of her skin. People were running down the stairs. Ginny heard Ron and Harry’s voices. She jumped up and pulled on her dressing gown. Something was going on.  
  
“Ginny?” Esmé raised her head, blinking sleepily. “What’s going on?”  
  
“I don’t know, Harry and Ron are in the common room.”  
  
“Can’t they just accept the party’s over?” Catharine muttered, pulling the covers over her head. Rowena hadn’t even woken up.  
  
Esmé got up as well, and she and Ginny hurried down the stairs. They arrived just in time to hear Percy ordering everyone back into bed. But it was Ron who spoke first.  
  
“Perce – Sirius Black! In our dormitory! With a knife! Woke me up!”  
  
Ginny grabbed Esmé’s arm. She saw that Harry was looking at Ron and there was no doubt on his face. Nobody said anything. The atmosphere was suddenly very quiet and very frightened. Percy looked shocked.  
  
“Nonsense!” he said, blinking. “You had too much to eat, Ron – had a nightmare –”  
  
Ron’s pasty face turned a little pinker. “I’m telling you –”  
  
“Now, really, enough’s enough!” Professor McGonagall snapped, slamming the portrait behind her. “I am delighted that Gryffindor won the match, but this is getting ridiculous! Percy, I expected better of you!”  
  
Percy swelled like a bullfrog. “I certainly didn’t authorise this, Professor! I was just telling them all to get back to bed! My brother Ron here had a nightmare –”  
  
But this was the last straw for Ron, who’d had enough of people telling him that he was imagining things. “IT WASN’T A NIGHTMARE! PROFFESOR, I WOKE UP, AND SIRIUS BLACK WAS STANDING OVER ME, HOLDING A KNIFE!”  
  
Professor McGonagall looked as shocked as Percy but she recovered faster. “Don’t be ridiculous, Weasley, how could he possibly have got through the portrait hole?”  
  
“Ask him!” Ron said, pointing a shaking finger at the back of the portrait. “Ask him if he saw –”  
  
Professor McGonagall gave him a suspicious glare but did as he suggested. Everyone waited as she stepped outside to question Sir Cadogan. By now, Esmé was holding onto Ginny’s arm.  
  
“Sir Cadogan,” said Professor McGonagall with a bite of impatience to her voice, “did you just let a man enter Gryffindor Tower?”  
  
“Certainly, good lady!”  
  
Ginny could hear everyone gasp inwardly. She glanced at Percy, who’d gone as white as Ron.  
  
“You – you _did_?” said Professor McGonagall, her voice high with disbelief. “But – but the password!”  
  
“He had ’em!” said Sir Cadogan with obvious approval. “Had the whole week’s, my lady! Read ’em off a little piece of paper!”  
  
There was a small pause and Professor McGonagall re-entered the common room, pulling herself through the portrait hole. She looked as if she’d turned into a ghost. “Which person,” she said, her voice trembling, “which abysmally foolish person wrote down this week’s passwords and left them lying around?”  
  
And once again Ginny felt that sickening feeling of lead in her stomach. She knew who’d written them down, she could picture the look of pride on his face. As she turned around, she saw Neville raise a trembling hand and she had to admire him for a moment, but as she heard Professor McGonagall begin to shout, a more pressing problem presented itself.  
  
Why had Sirius Black been trying to kill _Ron_?


	6. PART SIX: In the Belly of the Beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: PG-13 for swearing, blood and emotional distress

PART SIX: In the Belly of the Beast

\----------------------------------------------------  
A few weeks later in the wood,  
I came across Miss Riding Hood.  
But what a change! No cloak of red,  
No silly hood upon her head.

She said, “Hello, and please do note  
My lovely, furry wolf-skin coat.”  
**Roald Dahl**

We do not only live by day. Sometimes we accomplish our greatest deeds in dreams.  
**Jung**  
\------------------------------------------------------

“It doesn’t make sense,” Ginny said, staring at her History of Magic timeline.

“Of course it does,” Hermione insisted, leaning over. “The treaty was never ratified, so goblin rights weren’t enshrined in law…”

“Not the timeline! Sirius Black trying to kill Ron!”

Hermione’s lips tightened, but she certainly couldn’t accuse Ron of making up the attack, and Ginny was too busy thinking about the puzzle to be more tactful. Sir Cadogan had been taken away in disgrace and the Fat Lady was back, but she had a team of trolls to guard her now. This made entering and leaving the common room nerve-racking for most people, but for Hermione, who’d been attacked by a troll only two years ago, it was almost torture. Although even Hermione was having an easy time of it compared to Neville: Professor McGonagall had forbidden anyone to give him the password, so he had to wait for someone to let him into the common room every evening for a month.

Evidently deciding that the mention of Ron was not worth the argument, Hermione merely sniffed and said, “Of course it doesn’t make sense, Ginny, he’s _mad_.”

“Hermione, ‘mad’ doesn’t mean ‘stupid’. If it did, then he’d have been caught by now! He’s been clever enough to avoid capture all these months. Why ruin it by killing the wrong boy?”

Hermione opened her mouth and then closed it. Ginny could see that she was actually thinking about this from the arrested look on her face. “Well… maybe he didn’t realise Ron was the wrong boy,” she suggested.

Ginny shook her head, leaning forward. “No, Hermione, I’ve thought about this. Even if he has no idea what Harry actually looks like, he would know about the scar. _Everyone_ knows about the scar. The moon was almost full that night and Ron sleeps on his back, so Black would have been able to see his forehead, no problem!”

“Which brings us back to the fact that he’s mad! He probably wanted to silence the others before he killed Harry.” Hermione shuddered, chilled by the image of all five boys lying slaughtered in their own blood, but Ginny wasn’t convinced.

“Then he could have used the Full Body Bind or _Silencio_ or any number of spells without anyone discovering him! You see what I mean? It just doesn’t make sense. I’m not saying that Ron wasn’t in danger… I’m wondering why _he_ was the one in danger, not Harry.”

They looked at each other for a moment. Hermione bit her lip. “Some people are just evil, Ginny,” she said softly. “You know that…”

Ginny felt her throat tighten. “Yes,” she retorted. “And I also know that evil people never do anything without a reason.” But she could tell from the pity in Hermione’s gaze that her words were having little effect, and decided to change the subject before she lost her temper and they were kicked out of the library.

“How’s Hagrid?” she asked.

The pity faded from Hermione’s face. Now she simply looked sad. “Not good,” she said. “Losing the trial really affected his confidence. I’ve been trying to rally him about the appeal, but I don’t think I’m getting through. It’s as if he’s already given up. And… it’s just me, so…”

“So Harry and Ron aren’t doing anything?”

Hermione looked down. “I don’t think so, no.”

Ginny wanted to shake her. “You can’t do all that research on your own, Hermione! What about school?”

“I’m fine,” Hermione said immediately. “Everything’s fine.”

“Right.” Ginny didn’t believe her, but she knew there wasn’t much point in arguing. Hermione would continue to say that as long as the boys ignored her.

“Can I do something?” she asked.

“You should concentrate on school.”

“Oh, and you shouldn’t? Hagrid’s my friend, too, Hermione. I want to help. And don’t bother telling me that I’m too young.”

Hermione pressed her lips together. “You can look up animal trials if you must,” she said brusquely.

“You’re welcome,” Ginny retorted and went back to her essay. Hermione had sometimes complained about Harry not asking for help, but in Ginny’s opinion, Hermione had exactly the same problem. She certainly didn’t accept help easily.

As if worrying about the fight between Hermione, Harry and Ron wasn’t enough, the second years had to choose their optional subjects for the next year. Ginny and Catharine had no problem with this: Ginny chose Care of Magical Creatures and Muggle Studies (for Dad), while Catharine chose Muggle Studies and Divination.

“But you live with Muggles!” Rowena objected.

Catharine shrugged. “So it’s an easy pass, and if I get into the Ministry, I can do something about the clothing regulations.”

“What’s wrong with the clothing regulations?” Ginny demanded.

Catharine rolled her eyes. “They’re crap? I read in the Prophet yesterday that some Aurors went to interview a Muggle who’d seen a dragon and turned up in dressing gowns and Wellington boots! I mean, hardly discreet! If the Ministry is serious about this International Statute of Secrecy, they need to get with it.”

Esmé looked thoughtful. “She does have a point. The people who came to talk to Mummy about Hogwarts were wearing flares and crushed velvet.”

“I rest my case. What have you chosen?”

Esmé smiled. “Care of Magical Creatures and Arithmancy.”

“I like the sound of Arithmancy, but I’m not very good at Maths,” Rowena said mournfully.

“Why don’t you do Divination with me?” Catharine suggested.

“Because Reuben told me that Professor Trelawney’s a total fraud and I’d be bored to tears,” Rowena replied.

“But he finished the year before we started. Maybe she’s improved since then,” Catharine said, looking irritated.

“Not from what Hermione and Ron tell me,” Ginny murmured. “She’s spent the whole year telling Harry he’s going to die, she’s almost as bad as Snape.”

Catharine glared at her, but Rowena nodded. “Ancient Runes looks interesting… and I’ll take Care of Magical Creatures, too.”

“If you’re taking that, so am I!” Catharine snapped, grabbing her list and scribbling it down.

“But then you’ll be doing three extra subjects,” Esmé pointed out.

“Muggle Studies will be a walk in the park, there’s hardly any homework with Divination from what I’ve heard, I’m sure it won’t be too much trouble.” Catharine shrugged. “Anyway, it’s not like I’m doing a Hermione Granger and taking every single subject I can, is it?”

Meanwhile, the plan to discover the purpose of Crookshanks’s wanderings had suffered a setback: because of the tightened security, it was no longer a simple matter of walking out of the castle on a Sunday afternoon. Ginny and Esmé were now having to plan their escape strategy, as well.

“There _must_ be a way,” Ginny said. “Fred and George always manage it, so we can, too.”

“They never had to worry about trolls and Dementors,” Esmé pointed out.

“We can stun the trolls. And the Dementors aren’t patrolling the Forbidden Forest.”

“No, we just have to worry about werewolves and vampires and…”

“Werewolves are only dangerous during the full moon and there are no vampires in Scotland.”

“What about the Acromantula?” Esmé asked, raising her eyebrows. “I’ve heard that there’s a colony.”

“Acromantula don’t live in cold climates, that’s just a story, Esmé.”

“If you say so…” Esmé shrugged. “But as far as we know, your brothers and Hagrid are the only people who’ve ever explored the forest.”

“Well, I can’t ask Hagrid, he‘d want to know why. Fred and George would probably guess. We’ll just have to keep an eye on Crookshanks. If he avoids all the dangers, it won’t be difficult for us.”

“Yeah, but he has nine lives, we’ve only got one each.”

They had variations of this argument over the next few weeks. Ginny was so involved in working out their plan and in schoolwork that she almost forgot about everything else. There was no need to do extra Seeker practice anymore, though Oliver still occasionally let the Snitch out during the normal sessions, “just so you don’t forget” as he put it, while her research into animal trials proved far more absorbing that any history Professor Binns had taught her.

She had also discovered there was a whole sub-section of literature about Harry’s defeat of Voldemort, despite the fact that there was only a handful of known facts about that night. While most of the books were in the Restricted Section, due to the graphic events they described, Ginny was able to get hold of three or four books that were deemed vague enough for innocent minds, and learned that a handful of facts was all people needed to spin whole tales of speculation. And all of the books contained the salacious detail that Sirius Black had been best friends with James Potter, Harry’s father; one author even stated that Black had been named godfather to Harry, though Ginny wasn’t sure if this was true or just artistic licence to make Black’s deeds look even worse. Either way, the more she read about him, the more puzzled she became by his actions.

“Mum’s worried about you,” Percy told her one Sunday. “She barely hears from you these days. You promised you’d send her a letter a week.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “There’s nothing to tell! Same lessons, same teachers, same people. And we’re preparing for exams now, you know how much time that takes.”

Percy pushed his glasses up his nose. “I’m not asking you to write a lot, Ginny, just write. She needs to know that you’re okay. Ron was attacked in his bed. Dad only just stopped her from coming up to check on him. She doesn’t need to worry about you, too.” He glanced at Ron, who was playing chess with Lee Jordan by the fireplace.

“Mum was going to come up?” Ginny repeated, surprised. “She didn’t tell me that.”

“Maybe because you haven’t written, so she couldn’t?” said Percy dryly.

Ginny blushed.

“If you’re that busy, you can use Hermes to send your letters instead of one of the school owls,” Percy offered. “I know for a fact that he’s faster.”

She looked at him in surprise, then beamed. “Thank you, Percy!”

He coughed, looking pleased. “Just don’t let the twins or Ron know, or they’ll be wanting to use him, too, and he’ll get very tired.”

“I won’t,” Ginny promised, grinning at him. “_Thank_ you, Percy!”

“It’s nothing for you,” he said grandly, and walked off. Ginny grinned at the table. Sometimes it did pay to be the youngest. After all, she didn’t have to use Hermes _just_ to send letters to Mum; she could also use him to send letters to Hagrid.

_Bonus!_

The first thing she did was to send a short note to Hagrid, telling him that she was sorry to hear about Buckbeak’s trial and that she was helping with the research. In return, she got a torn scrap of paper with smudged writing that was mainly about Buckbeak’s day and the hope that if he was executed, it would be a merciful killing. Not exactly encouraging, but Ginny persevered with her research anyway.

Hagrid went up to London with a stack of notes that Hermione had carefully copied out in her neatest hand. Percy accompanied them to the school gates, where they waved Hagrid off as he strode off towards Hogsmeade. The Dementors’ presence meant they couldn’t stay to watch him go and Hermione fretted the whole way back about Hagrid’s nerves. Sadly, her fears proved correct. She received a tear-stained letter saying that Buckbeak had been sentenced and his execution date had been set. Esmé wrote a Howler to the Ministry, but Filch saw her on the way to the Owlery and confiscated it. Professor McGonagall took twenty points from Gryffindor and made her write ten school administration letters as punishment. The only good thing that came out of the whole sorry mess was that Harry and Ron started speaking to Hermione again and working with her on the appeal against Buckbeak’s sentence. Ginny tried to feel happy for her but it was difficult when she and Esmé were no nearer to getting out of the castle without being spotted by teachers, prefects or the Dementors.

“You’ll have to do the research,” Esmé told her as they stepped onto Platform 9¾. “I’m going to stay with my father for the holidays.”

“But I thought he was a wizard?” Ginny said, too surprised to be tactful. She remembered from the first year, when they were exchanging family stats, that Esmé’s parents were divorced and that her mother was a Muggle. Actually, now that she thought about that day, Esmé hadn’t really spoken about her father. Ginny knew he was alive and... that was it.

Esmé’s face had turned stiff and cold, like an effigy on a tomb. “He also lives in France and he won’t let me stay in my room for the whole two weeks reading, though that would probably be a hell of a lot nicer than what he has planned.” She made an effort to smile. “Besides, anything I find will be in French and you can’t condemn me to _more_ homework translating that, can you?”

Ginny laughed. “Okay, no. But if you _do_ manage to find anything, send me an owl, please?” She saw Rowena glance at them, her eyes sharp. A flutter of guilt made her quickly change the subject. “And what exactly does your dad have planned, anyway?”

“Just the usual… showing me all the wonderful things I missed by not going to Beauxbatons,” Esmé replied with a roll of her eyes.

“Beauxbatons?” Ginny repeated, startled. “What are you…?”

“Esmé!” A dark-haired woman was waving at them on the platform. Even if she hadn’t been signalling to them, her height and delicate features would have told Ginny who she was.

“Come on, Mummy wants to meet you,” Esmé said, grabbing Ginny’s hand.

“Me? Why does she want to know about…?”

“I told her about you, of course,” Esmé said impatiently, tugging her along. “That you’re on the bench for the Quidditch team and your older brother’s going to help me with magical conservation… Mummy, this is Ginny Weasley.”

She pushed Ginny forwards, almost as if she were showing her off. Ginny felt her cheeks burn as Esmé’s mother studied her face. She was aware of how shabby her robes were and how freckled and scruffy she must look next to Esmé. Despite not wearing robes, Esmé’s mother managed to look elegant, dressed in a fitted tweed coat, sleek trousers and brown leather boots. She held out a gloved hand and Ginny took it shyly.

“Pleased to meet you… Mrs Crosse?” she said, forcing her voice to stay steady.

“Dr Humphreys, but you can call me Felicity,” said Dr Humphreys, with a quick smile. “Esmé’s always mentioning you in her letters home. You aren’t Arthur Weasley’s daughter, by any chance?”

“Yes, I am!” Ginny said, staring at her. “How do you know Dad?”

“Mummy’s the Muggle representative for the NMPA - Non-Magical Parents’ Association,” Esmé told her, loading her trunk onto the trolley that was standing beside her mother.

“And your father is often the only person who treats me like an intelligent human being,” Dr Humphreys remarked with a sigh. “Honestly, if it weren’t for him, I think I’d have gone batty by now. I’ll be sending a card but do tell your parents ‘Happy Easter’ from me, won‘t you?”

“Of – of course,” Ginny answered, wondering why Dad had never mentioned Dr Humphreys at home. “I’d better go,” she said quickly. “Mum will be looking for me. It was nice to meet you, Dr Humphreys; happy Easter!”

“Happy Easter, Ginny!” Esmé called. “Don’t forget what we talked about!”

“Don’t you forget what I said!” Ginny called back with a laugh and hurried off to where Mum was standing with the twins and Percy.

“Who was that?” Percy asked, squinting as Esmé and her mother walked off towards the Muggle exit.

“Dr Humphreys… apparently she knows Dad,” Ginny added, glancing at Mum. “She said to wish you a happy Easter.”

“Oh!” Mum exclaimed. “Why didn’t you say so, Ginny, we could have had a chat.”

“You know her?” Ginny asked.

“Not as well as your father does, but we did meet occasionally last year, before…” Mum sighed and bit her lip. Ginny didn’t say anything, keeping her gaze straight ahead. “She and your father worked together on the Muggle Protection Act,” Mum explained.

Percy’s eyes widened. “_That’s_ Dr Humphreys?”

“What exactly were you expecting?” Fred demanded. “A humpback?”

“With a monocle,” George added.

“And a moustache, has to have a moustache,” Fred agreed.

“I just didn’t expect her to be so _young_,” Percy said stiffly.

“Well, you learn something new every day,” Mum said briskly, shepherding them all towards the Floo hearths. “Now, everybody got their luggage? All right. Percy, you go first, then the twins, then Ginny, you can come with me.”

“Mum!” Ginny jerked her hand away. “I’m not a baby any more, I can do it myself!” She grabbed her trunk from Fred, who was too surprised to move, shoved it into the fireplace, leapt into the hearth after it and flung her packet of Floo powder into the flames. “The Burrow!” she shouted, and grabbed onto the trunk as the sick whirling motion began. She kept her eyes peeled for that golden square, which was actually the sunlight on the rug by the south window. As usual, it seemed ages before it appeared, and she had to drag the trunk out with her whole body before she spun past to the next fireplace.

She had hardly finished dusting herself down before Mum barrelled out of the hearth, eyes blazing. “Just what do you think you were doing, young lady?!” The twins piled after her, agog. Usually Mum was yelling at _them_ by now. Percy came after them, and busied himself Levitating all the trunks upstairs, keeping out of the way.

_Very sensible,_ Ginny thought, gritting her teeth for the battle ahead. She turned and folded her arms. “I don’t need to hold your hand any more, Mum! I’m twelve years old, not twelve months! All my friends were there, they all heard you say that, how could you be so _embarrassing_?”

“Embarrassing?” Mum repeated, her voice rising. “What’s embarrassing is my daughter having a temper tantrum, just as if you _were_ twelve months old, and using up a whole packet of Floo powder like a tourist! How could you be so rude in front of everyone?! You could have ended up anywhere with that amount of powder, Ginny, anywhere!”

“Well, I didn’t, did I? I’m here, and I’m going upstairs to unpack!” Ginny marched towards the staircase, shoulders high, not giving Mum a chance to grab her.

“We are not finished, young lady!” she heard, the voice fading as the staircase twisted around and around. “You and I are going to have a serious talk about manners-!”

Ginny slammed her door with a great deal of satisfaction, and then locked it for good measure. It was the first time she’d ever turned the key in the lock, and for a moment, she felt exhilarated. Then she realised that she was going to get a lecture about manners, in which Great Aunt Muriel would be frequently mentioned, along with the threat of spending the summer at her house instead of here.

She walked to the window, which was already open to air the room, and leant on the window sill. For a moment, she wondered if it had been a good idea to come back home. But what would she have done at Hogwarts? Hung around with Ron and Hermione and Harry? Been a gooseberry? Ron had made it pretty clear that she wasn’t welcome. Even after everything that had happened to her, she was still shut out from the group.

She heard the thump of Mum’s foot on the staircase and quickly opened the trunk. If she had to listen to this, she’d better keep her hands occupied.

* * *

Ginny waited... and waited... and waited. Esmé’s letter did not come. She received a letter from Rowena and one from Catharine, which came via pigeon instead of owl. She even received an invitation to visit from Luna, which was delivered by a tiny hawk-like owl, written on violet hand-made paper. But nothing from France, not even a notice from the Ministry to say they were holding a package for her. She didn’t have Esmé’s address and she didn’t dare send Errol on a cross-Channel trip, she had no guarantee that he would make it back. And she couldn’t borrow Hermes because Percy kept using him to send letters to Penelope. The first week went by and there was nothing. Frustrated, Ginny got angry at Fred and George, ignored Percy and hung up the washing with a scowl that dared people to talk to her. Of course, this didn’t deter Mum.

“I don’t know what’s the matter with you, lately,” she remarked. “You used to be so helpful and now when I ask you to do something, I get a great big huff and a roll of the eyes.”

“You never ask the boys to do anything, that’s why!” Ginny snapped, which wasn’t a total lie.

“Percy’s studying for his N.E.W.Ts, you know that. He can’t be disturbed.”

“Because sorting the laundry obviously makes you forget everything you just revised, right!”

Mum pressed her lips together in the way that meant she was losing a grip on her temper. “You know that he wants to get a Ministry job, he has to get top results...”

“Maybe the Ministry would be a better place if the ministers did housework once in a while!”

“That’s enough!” Mum snapped, turning from the sink. “I know you’re upset about not hearing from your friend, but maybe it’s better this way-”

Ginny didn’t even try to keep her temper. “I’m upset because you’re making ME work like a house elf and letting the boys sit on their backsides!” she yelled. “You’re letting Percy get away with thinking that he’s the most important person in the house, when he ISN’T, and the twins aren’t even doing their homework because they’re not bothered about their O.W.Ls! You can’t MAKE them go into the Ministry! And you can’t MAKE me stay here and do all the work for them, either!” She grabbed a handful of Floo powder and flung it into the hearth, snatching Luna’s invitation from the mantelpiece as she did so. “The Lovegood House!”

“Ginevra, don’t you DARE-!”

Mum’s voice faded into the whirling sound of the Floo and Ginny only had time to draw a breath before her body slammed into something, and she was almost crushed for a moment before the force of the magic pushed her through the boards of wood and she fell onto a tiled floor.

When she looked up, she had to squint for a moment because the kitchen, where she’d arrived, was very bright. The walls were covered in scenes from Beedle the Bard: the talking tree stump, the Fountain of Fair Fortune, the three ladies and Sir Luckless holding hands. Ginny noted that Sir Luckless looked a bit like Ron. She picked herself up, dusting her knees down, staring at her hands, now dusty green. Mum would kill her when she went back. So maybe she wouldn’t go back for a while.

There was a crash and a bang from upstairs and the iron staircase in the middle of the room began to shake as someone ran down it.

“Coming through the Floo – messing with the energies – I’ve told them time and again, either come in person or not at all-!”

Ginny swallowed. This must be Luna’s father. Maybe she should have RSVPd? But the invitation had said ‘come when you like’. He’d seen her now and come to a stop, blinking like a surprised owl. He had white, fly-away hair and the same large, light-coloured eyes as Luna, but there was something missing from his gaze, she couldn’t quite say what.

“You’re not a contributor,” he said, frowning. “Who are you? What are you doing here? If you’ve come for the Dirigible plums-”

_Attack is the best form of defence_ said Ron’s voice in her head. Ginny lifted her head and smiled. “Mr Lovegood, I’m Ginny Weasley,” she said, stepping forward and shaking his limp hand. “I’m a friend of Luna’s, we’re in the same year at school? I’m in Gryffindor, but we have Defence Against the Dark Arts class together, we sit together, she invited me round.” She flashed the invitation in his face and took it away again before he could really register what was going on. “Is Luna here, by the way? She said I could drop in whenever.”

“Well, I... if Luna invited you, she should have said that we are no longer on the Floo!”

“I did, Daddy,” Luna said, her feet emerging first from the ceiling and then her legs, then her body and then her head. The steps rang lightly under her feet, almost musical. “I imagine Ginny must have come in quite a hurry.” She arrived at the bottom and beamed at Ginny, who noticed that her hair was clipped back with a butterfly that looked almost real.

“You’re just in time for lunch,” Luna went on.

“Lunch?” It was half past two. At Hogwarts, lunch was at twelve; at home, lunch was always quarter to one on the dot. Ginny had already had her lunch and wondered how to break this to Luna.

Mr Lovegood seemed to have lost all thought of telling her off. He was looking distracted. “I must send off that letter to Mandeville,” he announced. “The man has evidence that werewolves are being used as test subjects by the Ministry, I can’t let the Prophet buy him off.” He nodded briefly at Ginny and bestowed a warmer look on Luna. “I look forward to lunch, dear.” Then he flew up the staircase and Ginny heard something slam.

Luna clapped her hands. “Come on, let’s go and tickle for trout,” she said, grabbing Ginny’s hand and tugging her out of the back door. Ginny stumbled, partly from surprise and partly because she wanted to stop and look around.

Luna’s back garden sloped down sharply to the river. Ginny had the impression that it had once been very neat and well tendered, but the vegetable plots were raggedy and weeds were creeping in: brambles and nettles lurked at the edges, and the grass was uneven. “Are... trout... very ticklish?” she asked, her voice bumping over the tufts as the hill grew ever steeper.

“Depends on the trout,” Luna answered. Ginny noticed that she was wearing sparkling mandala earrings. She envied those earrings. “It’s not that I mind you coming, but why didn’t you send an owl? My father doesn’t mind owls,” she added. “He thinks the droppings have potential.”

Ginny decided not to ask. “Mum!” she said, grabbing a grass stem and pushing off the seeds. “She’s making me do _everything_ around the house because the boys ‘have to study’.” She pushed her voice up into a screech that was nothing like Mum’s, but it made her feel better. “It’s like I’m her house elf, Luna! Like I exist to do nothing but clean the living room and sort out the laundry!”

Her voice echoed around them. Luna lay down on her stomach and slipped her hands into the river. Ginny saw the dark silhouettes of fish slide past her but Luna did not seem concerned. She sat down, waiting for Luna’s response. Around them, willows trailed their branches in the water. An otter surfaced in the middle of the river, looked at them for a moment with curious brown eyes, then dived again. Ginny leaned forward and touched the water with her fingertips, then pulled back with a hiss of shock. The river was so cold it almost burned, but Luna did not seem affected at all.

Luna’s arms twitched. She jumped up suddenly and Ginny glimpsed a squirming fish in her hands. Luna turned from the stream, jumped to her feet and smacked the trout on the head with a rock from her pocket. It was all over in a matter of seconds. “Running over here isn’t going to stop your mum treating you like a house elf,” she said, not even out of breath. “Neither is yelling at her.”

Ginny stared at her. “What?!”

“I mean, it’s not like she makes you do _everything_,” Luna went on, taking an old issue of The Quibbler from her pocket and wrapping the fish in it. “She does all the washing and cooking, doesn’t she? She organises everyone in the household and makes sure that everything gets done.” Her grey eyes held Ginny’s. “She doesn’t want the others to have any excuses for getting out of their revision.”

Ginny stood up as well, frustrated. “How would you know?” she snapped. “You don’t have any brothers! You don’t know what it’s like!”

“Yes, I do,” Luna said, turning away and climbing the hill again. “I do all the housework when I come back from school. Daddy’s not very good at it, you see, and he needs to make sure the paper comes out on time.”

Stunned, Ginny climbed after her. “But that’s not fair! Why doesn’t your mum help?”

Luna turned and pointed with one hand to a small stone that was decorated with a wreath of withered daffodils and snowdrops. “She’s dead, so she can’t help much. I’m sure she would if she could, though.”

Ginny stared at the gravestone. Shame scalded her cheeks and neck. Luna’s mother was dead, and she’d come here complaining about _housework_... “You should have told me,” she stammered.

“Why?” Luna asked, genuinely curious.

“I have to go.” Ginny brushed past her, unable to look the other girl in the face. She had to get away. Her whole body was on fire, she was so mortified.

“Are you sure you don’t want lunch?” Luna called.

Ginny shook her head. Just the thought of eating made her feel sick. “I’ll see you at school,” she called back, though she knew that was a lie; she wasn’t sure if she could face Luna again after this. And the fact that Luna didn’t even seem aware of how insensitive she’d been just made it worse. She hurried into the kitchen, grabbed some Floo powder from a little jar that hadn’t been opened in ages if the stiffness of the lid was anything to go by, and flung herself into the fireplace.

“The Burrow!” she called. Even the sickening sensation of Floo travel was nothing compared to how she felt inside. As soon as she saw the kitchen, she threw herself out. Mum was peeling potatoes at the sink and the radio was on, tuned to Witches’ Hour. She could smell the lamb stew for that evening cooking in the oven. It was all so familiar, so warm, so clean. Ginny fought hard against the tears that were suddenly closing her throat.

“Mum...!”

She could tell that Mum had been building up a head of steam from the way she didn’t move. She kept peeling, staring at the potato she was holding. Ginny swallowed.

“Can I help, Mum?” she asked.

“Oh, you want to help?” Mum demanded. “I thought you were tired of being treated like a house elf.”

“I’m sorry,” Ginny mumbled.

“Are you?” Mum turned and looked at her. “About what, exactly?”

“I’m sorry that I said you were letting the boys get away with being lazy,” Ginny said, lifting her chin. “I know that you just want to make sure they do well in their exams. But I don’t like what you said about Esmé!” She folded her arms and glared right back. “Does it ever occur to you that after last year, it’s a miracle that people are even talking to me, let alone writing to me? I thought you’d be happy that I’ve got friends – you were so eager to be nice to Esmé and Rowena in Madam Malkin’s – now you’re acting like Esmé is a Malfoy!”

Mum made a clicking sound with her tongue. “Please don’t exaggerate, Ginny. I don’t think she is anything of the sort.”

“She hasn’t written to Rowena or Catharine, either, I know because I asked, and Rowena’s her best friend, she wouldn’t just stop speaking to her!”

“Well, Esmé hasn’t seen her father in some time,” Mum said, opening a drawer and taking out some cutlery. “She’s probably very busy. And I’m less upset about what you said than what you did.” She looked up and held Ginny’s gaze. “You can’t neglect your chores and run off just because you’re upset that one of your friends hasn’t written to you.”

_“Why can’t you understand-?!”_ All Ginny’s good intentions evaporated. She walked out of the kitchen and slammed the door for emphasis, broke the lock on the shed without caring whether anybody saw her, and grabbed Charlie’s old broom to do some dodging and weaving practice in the orchard. She stayed out there until twilight stole the last of the day and she heard Dad calling her. Guilty at making him wait and terrified he would spot her on the broomstick, Ginny swooped low among the trees and stored the broom behind a broken cider press.

“Dad?” she called, hoping he wouldn’t notice how windswept and breathless she was when he saw her.

Dad was standing by the entrance to the orchard. His customary smile was missing. Ginny felt her footsteps slow. Mum being angry was a normal hazard of family life but Dad being angry...

“Dad,” she began.

“I don’t want to hear your excuses,” Dad said, and Ginny’s heart sank. “How could you be so rude to your mother?”

Ginny looked away. She could feel the dew on the grass soaking into her socks and turning her ankles cold. The angry red of the sunset was rapidly fading into a penitent blue. “She was rude about my friend,” she muttered.

“And you were rude to yell at your mother, not to mention Flooing to the Lovegoods without any prior warning!”

“Did Mum tell you that the girl who isn’t writing to me is Esmé Crosse?” Ginny demanded, shifting from foot to foot. She was cold and wanted to hug herself but pride wouldn’t let her show that right now, not even in front of Dad.

Dad frowned. “What does that have to do with anything, Ginny?”

“You worked with Esmé’s mother on that Muggle Protection Act! You must know where her dad lives, right?”

“She’s staying with her father for the Easter holidays?” Dad’s voice sounded strange.

“Yes, and she said she would send me a letter so I knew the address but I haven’t heard anything, and neither have Catharine or Rowena – they’re the other girls in my dormitory,” Ginny added as an afterthought. “Why? Do you know something, Dad?” She waited but he said nothing. “Daddy?” she prompted.

“I was afraid of something like this,” he muttered. “Go inside, dinner’s ready. And apologise to your mother – no, Ginny, don’t argue. I need to go back to the Ministry, I have to send an owl.”

Before Ginny could ask him why or what was going on, there was a small pop and Dad had Disapparated. Frustrated, she stared at the spot where he had been, then slowly made her way inside. She knew what Mum’s reaction would be.

When she went inside, Fred and George were mashing the potatoes, and Percy was actually in the kitchen for once instead of eating in his room. Mum was draining the carrots. “There’s a letter for you,” she said, nodding at the dresser. An eagle owl was preening itself on the perch, watching her with burnt orange eyes.

Ginny’s heart leapt. “Esmé!” she said, grabbing the envelope and tearing it open. For the first time in her life, she was disappointed to see Charlie’s handwriting. It was a list of books for Esmé and the names of some people who might be willing to give her work experience. Ginny quickly folded the list and put it in her pocket, aware that Mum was watching her.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you, Mum,” she said, feeling her cheeks turn red. “But you _are_ wrong about Esmé.” She told Mum about Dad’s reaction when she’d said Esmé was staying with her father, and that he’d gone back to the Ministry ‘to send an owl’. Mum’s eyes widened. She turned and grabbed her cloak.

“Percy, you’re in charge, I have to go out,” she said.

The twins stopped mashing and stared at her. Percy frowned, but helped her put the cloak on.

“What about dinner?” asked George, too shocked to ask the real question of where she was going so suddenly and so late in the day.

“You’re big enough to get your own dinner now and then,” Mum answered, slipping on her boots. “I shouldn’t be long, but...” She hesitated, then shook her head. “I won’t be long. Percy, any questions, send Hermes.”

Percy nodded. “Of course, Mother. Can I do anything?”

“No, thank you.” She kissed his cheek, then darted back and kissed the twins, who were still in shock.

“But where are you _going_?” Ginny asked as Mum hugged her, tighter than usual.

Mum straightened and smoothed down Ginny’s hair for a moment, then stepped back. “Cheltenham,” she said, and Disapparated.

“Cheltenham?!” Fred exploded, a second too late. “What’s in Cheltenham? Percy, what the hell is going on?!”

Percy opened the oven and took out the stew. “I have no idea and yelling at me is not going to help you find out. Now, please finish mashing the potatoes. Ginny, could you set the table?”

“You’re not even the least bit curious?” George demanded in disbelief, not moving. “Mum disappears off to Cheltenham of all places and you don’t even wonder why?!”

“Of course not!” Fred sneered, his anger turning to spite in a flash. “Percy never asks questions, he’s a good little boy!”

“SHUT UP!” Ginny screamed. “JUST SHUT UP ALL OF YOU!”

All three boys stared at her, shocked. She pulled open the drawer, pointed her wand and set the table with a few movements, daring Percy to say something. He didn’t.

“I’m going upstairs,” she said when she’d finished.

“But... your dinner,” Percy began.

“I’m not hungry.”

Ginny marched out of the room and ran up the stairs, all the way to her room, where she locked the door and threw herself on the bed. What was in Cheltenham? She could have told Fred that. Esmé lived in Cheltenham with her mother. But she wasn’t there now... Why had Dad’s face changed like that and why had Mum gone to see Dr Humphreys? What was going on?

There was a moaning and a gurgling as the ghoul shot through the pipes behind her bedroom wall. “You’re right,” Ginny said, turning over and staring at the ceiling, “something is definitely wrong here. But they won’t tell me anything, oh no. I’m just a little girl...” She reached over and grabbed her storybook, flipping to where she’d last stopped reading.

_Meanwhile the wolf ran straight to the grandmother’s house and knocked at the door._

_“Who is there?”_

_“Little Red-Cap,” replied the wolf. “She is bringing cake and wine; open the door.”_

_“Lift the latch,” called out the grandmother, “I am too weak, and cannot get up.”_

_The wolf lifted the latch, the door flew open, and without saying a word he went straight to the grandmother’s bed, and devoured her._

Ginny slammed the book shut. _No. No, that’s not right._ She did not want to think of Esmé being devoured. “Don’t be silly,” she said to herself, hearing her voice tremble. “Esmé’s fine, just fine. Mum and Dad are going to fix things...”

_They didn’t fix things before, did they? If they couldn’t save you from Tom, how can they save her from her own father?_

Ginny pressed her hands over her ears against the voice in her head. Her parents couldn’t save her from Tom because they didn’t know about him, because she’d kept him a secret. Esmé’s father wouldn’t hurt her. But the way Dad’s face had changed...

For the first time since last year, she wanted a diary. She wanted to write down her thoughts so they would stop flying about her head like bats, scaring her with shadows.

The dream sucked her in. One moment she was lying on her bed, the next she was lying on a faded red carpet. There were holes in the wool, showing the floorboards beneath. Everything was dusty. It looked familiar. She pushed herself to her feet and then she saw that she was in a corridor and at the end of the corridor... a door.

_No._

Ginny’s stomach clenched in fear and then anger rushed through her. She had gone through all of this and now she was back at the beginning? She started to walk, and then she began to walk faster, and then she began to run. She wanted to pound down that door, she wanted to scream at the person behind it and blast them into smithereens.

Her hand was on the latch, pushing it down, she yanked the door back –

“Ginny?”

Ginny gasped and opened her eyes. When she saw Mum’s face, she was so infuriated that she almost yelled at her again for waking her up. Then she remembered what had happened, sat up, and hugged her.

“Mum! What’s happening? Is Esmé all right? Why did Dad have to go back to the Ministry? What did Dr Humphreys say?”

“Shhh!” Mum said, rubbing her back. “Esmé is fine. Your father had to send an owl to the French Ministry for Magic. Dr Humphreys had to add something to the letter your father sent.”

“But why did Dad have to send a letter at all? And please don’t say I’m too young to know,” Ginny added before Mum could answer. “Was Esmé in danger?”

Mum sighed. Ginny curled up against her and put her head on her shoulder. She felt Mum’s hand stroke her hair. “No, darling, not the sort of danger you’re thinking about. I don’t really want to say too much because it’s private... if Esmé wants you to know, she should be the one to tell you about it.” She paused for a moment. Ginny could almost hear her thinking. “Esmé chose to go to Hogwarts and stay with her mother. That was her right, but because her parents are divorced, Dr Humphreys had to undergo government tests to prove that she was trustworthy and wouldn’t break the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy and that Esmé wouldn’t be at a disadvantage living with her –”

“Disadvantage? She’s her _mother_!”

“She is also a Muggle, Ginny,” Mum said with a sigh. “And you know there are people in the Ministry who think of Muggles as little more than animals.”

Ginny stiffened. “Like Lucius Malfoy, you mean.”

“Not just Lucius Malfoy, I’m afraid. That’s why the Muggle Protection Act was so important – there’s a clause which protects the rights of Muggle parents with magical children. It ensures that they can’t be Obliviated once the children leave Hogwarts and take up jobs in our world; it also says that magical children can’t be taken away unless there is hard evidence that they would be better off living with a magical parent.”

Ginny looked at her, startled. “You mean... they were taken away before?”

“Let’s just say it was very easy to use magic to manufacture evidence that a Muggle parent was neglecting or abusing a child with magic,” Mum answered, looking tired.

Ginny’s stomach roiled. “That’s disgusting,” she whispered.

“Yes, it is. Which is why your father stopped it,” Mum said and kissed her on the cheek.

“But Esmé –!”

“Esmé will be at Hogwarts with you next term. You can ask her about it then. Have you had your dinner?”

“No, I couldn’t eat, I was too worried,” Ginny confessed, blushing. It sounded so girly.

Mum didn’t seem surprised. “You can come down and have a little something while your father eats.”

“Dad’s back too?!” Ginny jumped off the bed but Mum was already up.

“Yes, and I don’t want you pestering him about what’s just happened.”

“But Mum...”

“Ginny. Your father has had a long day and he’s tired.”

Ginny stared at the floor. It felt like Mum pulling her away from the door all over again. “Yes, Mum.”

“Thank you.” Mum rubbed her back. “I appreciate it.”

The words helped a little but not much. Ginny wondered if Esmé would say anything when they met again. Dad was sitting at the kitchen table, wolfing down a plate of stew. He looked up when she sat down and smiled. Relieved that she was forgiven, Ginny smiled back. “Are you all right, Dad?” she asked, deciding that Mum couldn’t fault her for asking _that_.

He nodded. “How are you?” he asked, his eyes sharp behind his glasses.

“I’m okay now,” Ginny answered.

Dad reached across and rubbed her hand, running his thumbs over the knuckles. He’d often done that when she was younger because he knew it made her giggle. But tonight it made her think of Luna, and then Esmé, and tears came into her eyes because she knew that neither of them had moments like this with their fathers. Dad put his knife and fork down and hugged her gently, rubbing her back.

“It’s all right now,” he whispered. “She’s fine, she’s safe.”

Ginny nodded, gulping. She didn’t want to spoil this by crying, she so rarely had Dad to herself. He gave her his hankie, and she scrubbed her eyes and cheeks. “I heard you yelled at the boys,” he remarked, pouring himself another Butterbeer.

“They were fighting,” Ginny answered, grateful that he’d changed the subject but not wanting to elaborate.

Dad nodded. “It’s good,” he said. “They need to be yelled at every now and again. All boys do.” He winked at her. “Don’t forget that.”

Ginny grinned back. “I promise I won’t, Dad.”

* * *

Esmé wasn’t on the platform on Monday morning; she wasn’t in any of the compartments. Ginny spent a tense journey with Rowena and Catharine, the three of them going round in circles as to what could have happened to her. By the border, Catharine had grown bored of Rowena’s nervous rambling and dug out a few Muggle magazines. Demelza and Margaret came by and invited them to a game of Exploding Snap. The bangs and whistles attracted more and more people, until the game had ten players and nearly thirty spectators and the compartment was full to bursting.

Of course, Percy had to turn up and spoil the fun. “Everybody, back to your compartments!” he bellowed. “Or it’s ten points from Gryffindor for every one of you – I don’t care if the term hasn’t started, Roberts, you can still lose points!”

“At least it was Percy and not a Dementor,” Ginny pointed out to Rowena and Catharine as they changed into their robes.

Catharine shuddered. “I can’t stand the idea of those things hanging around the school for the rest of the year. Summer’ll be ruined, we won’t be able to go outside! I don’t get it, if they’re such amazing guards, how come that Black bloke escaped in the first place?”

Rowena grabbed Ginny’s arm, her eyes alight with a new and terrifying idea. “What if Sirius Black’s got Esmé, Ginny?!”

“Oh for God’s sake!” Catharine exploded. “Why the hell would he go to France, Rowley, he doesn’t sound like he’d be up for a booze cruise! Esmé’s probably already at Hogwarts.”

Rowena looked surprised. This idea obviously hadn’t occurred to her. “But her mum’s a Muggle,”she objected.

“Yes, Muggles can get to Scotland, too, y’know,” Catharine said with heavy sarcasm. “They can drive, or get the train, or fly.”

“Fly?!” Both Ginny and Rowena looked at her, stunned.

Catharine shook her head. “They should make everyone do Muggle Studies,” she muttered. “Hell of a lot more use than Potions. You must have heard of aeroplanes?”

“Oh... planes, right,” Rowena said, blushing.

“But even if she did get a plane or whatever you call them, Hogwarts is invisible to Muggles,” Ginny argued as they got off the carriage and headed towards the coaches.

“There’s probably a pre-arranged pick up point,” Catharine replied, with an infuriating know-it-all air that reminded her of Percy. “I bet you she’ll be in the dormitory when we get there. Bet you anything you like.”

“I hope you’re right,” Rowena whispered, shivering as the carriage rattled past the Dementors at the front gate.

In fact, Esmé was sitting at the dining table, along with most of the third years, who’d remained behind during the Easter holidays in order to cope with their increased workload. Ginny felt a rush of relief at seeing her, followed by a wave of irritation that Esmé could look so calm when they’d all been worried sick over her. Rowena let out a shriek, flew towards their friend, and almost pulled Esmé off the bench with her enthusiastic hug.

“Oh my _God_, Esmé, we were so _worried_–!”

“I’m fine,” Esmé said, quickly disentangling herself and glaring at the people who’d started to stare. “I’m just _fine_, Rowena, will you calm down?”

“Seriously, though, you all right?” Catharine asked, taking the other place beside her so Ginny had to go and sit on the opposite bench. “Rowley here thought you’d been abducted by Sirius Black.”

Esmé laughed, a strange hollow sound. “Chance would be a fine thing.” She caught Ginny’s eye. “Dad just... got a little upset about letting me come back here, that’s all.”

“Oh!” Rowena said, widening her eyes. “Of course, he must miss you so much, I didn’t think.”

Esmé took a large gulp of pumpkin juice. “Yeah,” she agreed, keeping her eyes focused on her plate. “He misses me.”

“As long as you’re back, that’s what matters,” said Catharine, apparently satisfied with this explanation, and Rowena nodded. They both grabbed their knives and forks and started eating.

Ginny stared at them. She couldn’t believe they were just going to accept that. Wasn’t it obvious that Esmé was lying? Wasn’t it obvious that she was really upset about this?

“I brought a couple of things back from France that I thought you might like, Ginny,” Esmé remarked. “I’ll show you when we go back to the dorm. I’ve got you two presents, too,” she added.

“Make up?” Catharine demanded at the same time as Rowena said, “Jewellery?”

Esmé grinned. “Wait and see.”

Ginny wondered how she could be so happy after what had happened. Or maybe she was just jealous that Esmé had recovered so well from whatever had happened while she was still having nightmares a year later. She’d only managed one helping of roast lamb and rosemary potatoes when the whole Gryffindor table stood up. Confused, Ginny did the same and saw that they were all following Harry out of the hall. She made her way to Hermione and Ron and grabbed Ron’s arm. “What’s going on?” she demanded.

“This Saturday’s our rematch against Slytherin,” Ron explained. “Wood wants to make sure that Harry’s protected until then.”

“So that’s why all these people are following us?” Ginny looked around at the massive, chattering crowd. _Harry must hate this._

“Yep,” Ron said proudly. “You should see how disappointed Crabbe and Goyle are every time they ‘turn up’. I mean, even Sirius Black couldn’t get to Harry now!”

“There’s a bright side to everything,” Ginny muttered, glancing at Harry, who was walking with his head down. She was so close that she could have reached out and touched his arm, his shoulder, and the blood burned in her cheeks at the thought.

They slowly moved through the castle and up towards the common room. The trolls guarding the Fat Lady had gone but it still took ages to get into the room because of the sheer number of people going inside. As they queued up, Esmé grabbed Ginny’s arm. “I’ll meet you in the second floor loos,” she whispered, “just got to give Rowena and Catharine their presents.”

Relieved, Ginny nodded and slipped through the crowd, quickly dodging Percy, who had turned up at the back of the crowd and was shouting, “Single file, please!” This was rather pointless as the portrait hole was charmed to only let one person through at a time but it obviously made him feel better.

She managed to find the door easily enough. It still had the ancient ‘out of order’ sign on it. Her heart was banging crazily against her ribs. Of course, Esmé wasn’t to know that this was how you entered the Chamber of Secrets. She wasn’t to know that even being this close to the loos made Ginny want to vomit with the memories of waking up – blood on her hands – her head aching – her mind empty –

“No.” She closed her eyes and shook her head once. “No.” She tried to summon the rage she’d felt in the dream, the rage at the person waiting for her behind the door. Well, wasn’t he waiting behind this door, too? The pure fury did not come but there was enough of a spark to help her lift the latch and step inside.

The smell overwhelmed her: unclean drains and dust. New graffiti on the stall doors. Dim lights burning in the walls, making the whole room look even dirtier. Ginny stared across the room at the sinks. Was it still there? She had to see. Her feet seemed to be made of lead and every step was a conscious, physical effort. It took so long to make her way towards the opposite wall, to bend down and see the snake etched on the tap. Her vision blurred for an instant and she gripped the edge of the sink, the cold stone keeping her conscious. It was still there, still waiting to be opened. But the basilisk was dead, nothing would ever come out of that tap again.

“What are you doing?”

Ginny straightened up quickly and turned around. Esmé was closing the door, frowning. “Are you sick?”

“No,” Ginny said quickly. “I’m fine. Just like you.” She glanced at the other girl as she said this and saw how Esmé’s mouth tightened at the corners.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Ginny,” she said, her voice strained. “I appreciate you not telling Rowena or Catharine about what happened...”

“But I don’t know what happened, Esmé! All I know is that my dad rushed off to the Ministry and my mum flew off to Cheltenham to see YOUR mum and then they both came back later that evening and said that everything was fine!”

“Well...” Esmé shrugged. “Thanks for not telling them about that, then.”

Ginny stared at her, disappointment and anger colliding inside her head to create red static. “That’s it? You’re not going to tell me what happened?”

“I said I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“How can you keep this a secret from me?” Ginny demanded, her fists clenching. “You wouldn’t even BE here if it wasn’t for me!”

Esmé’s lip curled. “Oh, so I’m supposed to THANK you now? I should be grateful, is that it?”

“I thought we were friends!” Ginny yelled. “Friends don’t keep secrets from each other!”

“_You’re_ accusing _me_ of keeping secrets?! You’ve never spoken about what happened in the Chamber before Harry rescued you – EVER – and I respected that! I’ve never asked you! But apparently you need to know EVERYTHING about me!” Esmé shouted back.

Ginny glared at Esmé, infuriated that she had no comeback. “It’s private!” she snapped, aware that this sounded pathetic.

“Yeah. Private. I thought you of all people would understand that,” Esmé said, her voice wavering. “Guess I was wrong, wasn’t I?”

Ginny couldn’t respond. Esmé was right, but the Chamber was different, it was just different. There was no way she could explain that without explaining about Tom and she would never, never tell anyone else about him. Esmé nodded, turned and left the room without a word. Only after she’d gone did Ginny realise that she’d never found out what Esmé had brought back from France. She almost slammed the door off its hinges with frustration as she left.

Normally, this fight would have been a big thing, but there were only two topics of conversation in the Gryffindor common room that week: the Quidditch match and Hermione Granger dropping Divination. Although Hermione’s feelings about Professor Trelawney were well known, nobody had actually expected her to admit defeat. Yet it didn’t seem to make any difference to her workload. Every evening, Hermione was at the same table, with the same enormous pile of books, looking as if she would collapse at any moment. Ron was doing all the research for Buckbeak’s appeal. Up until now, he’d only shown this kind of devotion to the Cannons.

“I’ve tried talking to her,” he said when Ginny mentioned Hermione. “She won’t listen to me or Harry. Maybe she’ll listen to you, you’re a girl.”

“Perfect logic, Ron,” Ginny said, rolling her eyes, but she did tell Hermione that maybe she should cut back on her subjects. The result was a rather nasty argument in which Hermione told Ginny that her schoolwork was none of Ginny’s business and Ginny told Hermione that she was just as bad as Harry when it came to admitting she needed help.

Ginny was glad when Saturday arrived, but then Cho Chang told Harry good luck as the team left the Great Hall and Harry blushed. Ginny lost her appetite and had to wait for the others to finish their breakfast before they went outside to the Quidditch grounds. Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs turned up to support Gryffindor as well, which made the Gryffindor side very crowded. Ginny ended up between Neville, who smiled at her, and Esmé, who ignored her. Part of Ginny was glad about this and part of her was still angry with Esmé for not telling her what had happened.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Rowena moaned.

“Shut up, Rowena,” Esmé and Ginny said at the same time, and glanced at each other, caught out.

“It’ll be fine!” Hermione said from further along the row, her voice forced and cheery. “They’re a great team.”

“Harry’s got a Firebolt, he can’t possibly lose,” Ron added with more logic.

“As long as Malfoy doesn’t try any dirty tricks,” Catharine remarked, creating an awkward silence. They all remembered Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle dressing up as a Dementor to try and make Harry fall off his broom.

“He’ll try every trick in the book,” Neville said suddenly. “Harry’ll have to outthink him, not just outfly him.”

“Who asked you?!” Catharine snapped.

“Now, now, no fighting!” said Percy, who had just arrived on the bench in front of them, hand in hand with Penelope. “We’ve all go to pull together and support the team!”

“And here are the Gryffindors!” Lee Jordan’s announcement made everyone sit up and squint at the changing rooms, where the scarlet figures were making their way towards the pitch. They immediately all cheered and clapped their hands. Catharine even put two fingers in her mouth and gave a piercing whistle.

“Potter, Bell, Johnson, Spinnet, Weasley, Weasley and Wood!” Jordan announced, as if anyone needed reminding. “Widely acknowledged as the best side Hogwarts has seen in a good few years – ”

The Slytherins booed so loudly that the rest of his sentence was drowned out. Undaunted, he continued, “And here come the Slytherin team, led by captain Flint. He’s made some changes in the line-up and seems to be going for size rather than skill – ”

“For heaven’s sake,” Percy muttered as the Slytherins started booing again, “I’m all for house loyalty but if he carries on like that, we won’t be able to hear anything!”

“What was that you were saying about pulling together, Percy?” asked Ron.

Percy turned around and glared, his blue eyes darkening, and Ginny held her breath. Percy held onto his temper easier than the rest of them but he did have a breaking point and she wondered if Ron – and the twins – remembered that. Then Penelope squeezed his hand and said, “They’re mounting their brooms!” Percy turned around and Ginny let out the breath, relieved. She felt someone touch her hand and turned in surprise to see Neville staring at her with concern.

“You okay?” he whispered and she wanted to hug him for being so concerned about her in the middle of all this.

“Fine,” Ginny said, giving him a smile, “just – brothers.”

Then the whistle blew and they both leapt to their feet and cheered. The game went really well until Flint grabbed Katie Bell’s head and nearly pulled her off her broom. Even though she scored her penalty, the mood of the game soured.

“TAKE THAT, YOU DIRTY, CHEATING – !”

“Jordan!” Professor McGonagall interrupted, putting her wand to his throat to drown out the next word. “If you can’t commentate in an unbiased way –!”

“I’m telling it like it is, Professor!”

“Unbiased way?!” Catharine shouted. “He’s always biased, just because he swore!”

“HARRY!” Hermione screamed, pointing as a scarlet dot suddenly shot towards the Gryffindor goalposts.

“NO!” Ron howled. “He can’t catch the Snitch yet or we won’t win the Cup! GO BACK, HARRY, GO BACK!” He started flinging his arms to the left, nearly knocking Neville off the bench.

The Slytherin Beaters were speeding towards Harry, right on a collision course.

“He’s going to get crushed!” Rowena moaned.

“No!” Ginny said, feeling her blood turn cold. She had already watched him fall off the broom once, she couldn’t do it a second time, he had to be planning something, he just had to be – and just before the Beaters reached him, Harry pulled up and they smashed into each other. Ron and Percy punched the air at exactly the same time.

“I swear he wants to give me a heart attack!” Hermione exclaimed, her face white.

It was Esmé who screamed and pointed at the Gryffindor goalposts and they turned just in time to see Flint score a goal. A massive groan rose up from the Gryffindor stand, drowned out by the sudden hysterical cheer from the Slytherins. Lee Jordan swore so badly that Professor McGonagall tried to take the megaphone away from him but Jordan leapt out of her reach.

“Sorry, Professor, sorry! Won’t happen again!”

The game had definitely turned ugly now. The Slytherins were desperate to prevent the Gryffindors from scoring again, which meant hitting them at every opportunity. Madam Hooch shot from one side of the pitch to the other, dealing out penalties faster than cards in Exploding Snap. Ron and Percy were keeping score along with Lee Jordan: “Forty... fifty... sixty... seventy!”

“Now Harry can catch the Snitch!” Ron told Hermione.

“HE’S SEEN IT!” Neville yelled, pointing. Harry was shooting upwards, hand outstretched, but then a green dot shot after him and... what was Malfoy doing?

“Is he allowed to grab hold of Harry’s broom?!” yelled Catharine, who had brought a pair of Muggle binoculars.

“NO, HE BLOODY WELL ISN’T!” Ron shouted, drawing his wand, but Malfoy was already sliding back onto his own broom.

Lee Jordan and Professor McGonagall both started screaming abuse, unappeased by the award of a penalty, McGonagall even shaking her fist at the sky. Heartened by Harry missing the Snitch, the Slytherin team scored another goal almost without anyone noticing. Meanwhile, Harry and Malfoy seemed to be doing a weird dance in the sky where they were joined at the knee.

“Why isn’t he looking for the Snitch?” Hermione moaned.

“He’s marking Malfoy so Malfoy can’t look for it!” Ginny yelled back.

Angelina Johnson had grabbed the Quaffle and was heading for the Slytherin goalposts but the Slytherins had seen her coming and were all flying towards her in one big, ugly, bottle green blockade. Harry suddenly left Malfoy, turned and shot towards them like an arrow. Faced with being hit by a Firebolt, the Slytherins scattered like rats and Angelina was left with an empty field. But Ginny didn’t see the goal; she was distracted by something golden glittering above the grass. The Snitch! She stood up, no thought in her head except to grab it before Malfoy could. Esmé and Neville grabbed at her.

“Ginny, what are you doing?!”

“The Snitch!” she screamed, pointing, and suddenly everyone was screaming, because Malfoy had spotted it, too, and was shooting towards the ground.

Percy groaned. “We can’t lose, not now, not after all this time!”

Harry had turned and was coming back, flying faster and faster – but he couldn’t make it – he was too far away – it was impossible – wasn’t it?

“Come on, Harry!” Ron yelled. “You’ve got a Firebolt, you can beat him!”

All the spectators were on their feet; even the teams had stopped playing and were shouting at the two Seekers as they converged upon the Snitch.

“THEY THINK IT’S ALL OVER!” Lee Jordan screamed, beside himself.

Harry was gaining on Malfoy – he was at Malfoy’s tail – he was level – he took both hands off the broom, threw himself forwards, knocked Malfoy’s arm out of the way –

“It is now!” Lee Jordan proclaimed unnecessarily as Harry swooped up into the sky, the Snitch held aloft in one triumphant fist.

Ginny screamed, but that was okay, because everyone else was screaming too. She turned and hugged Neville, who blushed and grinned at her, and then found herself pulled into a three-sided hug with Ron and Hermione, who were jumping up and down and laughing. Then she was crushed between Rowena and Catharine, who were both on the verge of tears, and finally turned to Esmé. All grudges were put aside in this amazing moment and they hugged each other without thought. In fact, Ginny was pretty sure she heard a rib crack. Percy and Ron were hugging and roaring at each other, no words, just “AHHH!” Hermione turned around and stared at Ginny, her expression plainly asking, “Is this normal?” Ginny nodded, grinning.

“Come on!” Ron said, pulling out of Percy’s grip and turning to Hermione. “Let’s go and get Harry!”

The Gryffindor team were sinking slowly to earth, hugging each other and cheering. The Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw supporters poured onto the pitch, everyone wanting to congratulate and cheer them. Ron and Hermione disappeared into the crowd. Neville was waylaid by Dean and Seamus; Seamus flung his arms around Neville and openly wept into his shoulder. Neville and Dean both patted him on the back, grinning, while Demelza and Margaret emerged and threw themselves on Ginny, screaming, “We won, Ginny, we won!”

Each member of Gryffindor team was hoisted shoulder-high, the load shared by Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws alike as they were borne towards the stands where Dumbledore stood waiting with the Quidditch Cup. As he handed it to a weeping Wood, Ginny vowed that next year, she would try out for the Quidditch team regardless of whether she had a broom or not. The Quidditch Cup was here to stay.

* * *

After the excitement of the Quidditch final, the end-of-year exams were like a cold slap in the face. Worried about the N.E.W.Ts, Percy became even more rigid than before, guarding the common room like a tiger and giving severe penalties to anyone making too much noise. Ginny had even spotted Fred and George revising – though they were doing it in the Restricted Section in the library so nobody would see them. She wrote and told Mum about it, because she knew Mum was worried about the twins getting good results.

“We’ve got it all worked out,” Fred said with a strange smile when she mentioned this.

“Yep. Strategy, Ginny, that’s what you need when it comes to revision. Strategy,” repeated George with an identical strange smile.

Ginny couldn’t get them to explain exactly what they meant by that but they were definitely revising. It certainly seemed to reassure Percy and anything that helped him relax was good. Rowena had taken up semi-permanent residence in the library and Catharine usually went with her because the Ravenclaw boys were always there, as well. Esmé and Ginny stayed in the common room.

Ginny wasn’t sure if they were friends again or not. The atmosphere between them had thawed but it wasn’t the same as before. She didn’t feel as if she could discuss Crookshanks with Esmé now and she was still no further in working out how to get out of Hogwarts and follow Crookshanks. Revision was almost a relief, and thanks to her homework sessions with Hermione, she even had some sort of idea about what they’d done in History of Magic. Not that it ever mattered what you got in History of Magic – everybody knew that the Ministry had stopped caring about that a long time ago. Charms came easily; Transfiguration was challenging, but Ginny put the most revision time into Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts. She didn’t want to give Snape any excuse to mark her down and she wanted Professor Lupin to see that he was a good teacher. In the back of her mind, there was an unformed idea that if she could get a good enough mark, he would stay. She wanted him to stay. They all did.

She felt slightly sick the day of the Defence Against the Dark Arts exam, but dismissed this as nerves. As they all milled about the corridor outside the door, a low buzz of tense chatter filling the air, Ginny felt something change. Pain, like fingers slowly clenching into a fist, except this fist was in the centre of her body. It was a pain that was different from a stomach ache, deeper, harder. A suspicion began to form into her mind. No, it couldn’t be, not now...

She began to walk away.

“Ginny, where the hell are you going?!” Catharine called out.

“Loo!” Ginny shouted back, speeding up.

“You can’t go now, you’ll miss the exam!” Rowena shouted.

“I’ll be quick!” Ginny didn’t wait to hear the reply. She turned the corner and sprinted, heading for the nearest loos. They had to be the loos which contained the Chamber of Secrets, of course, but she didn’t actually care about that, not at the moment. She barely saw the room before she found a cubicle, slammed the door shut and locked it, then pulled down her pants. They were strangely sticky. When Ginny saw why, she clenched her teeth, panic rising in her chest. This could not be happening. She had an exam in ten minutes. “No – no – no!” she muttered, grabbing her wand and pointing it. _“Tergeo – Tergeo – Tergeo!”_

She didn’t know if she was ashamed, or angry at her body for doing this to her (she had an _exam_ in _ten minutes_!). Each command siphoned off more blood but it was pointless: even if she managed to get all the blood out, she had no way to prevent a new stain. She dragged the stained pair of knickers off her legs and took out the clean pair Mum had insisted on her carrying around. She slammed the cubicle door against the wall as she walked out, purely to vent her frustration. The pain was worse now, but Ginny’s rage was stronger.

“Stupid... stupid... bloody body,” she muttered between gritted teeth, shoving the plug in the plughole and yanking at the cold water tap. There was a gurgle and then a hollow moan as Myrtle gushed out of the tap with the water. Ginny ignored her. She took out the nail brush that Catharine had given her and scrubbed at the cotton. The water began to turn a faint brown.

“What are you doing?” Myrtle demanded, peering over Ginny’s shoulder, a sensation akin to having a damp towel pressed against your neck.

“What does it look like?” Ginny snapped, turning the material over and scrubbing the other side.

Myrtle sniffed. “_Fine_, don’t tell me, nobody ever tells me – is that _blood_ on your _knickers_?”

“Your powers of observation astound me,” Ginny retorted. She lifted the knickers out of the water and wrung them tightly, then pointed her wand and said, _“Sicco.”_ The cotton went from grey with rusty patches to white with rusty patches.

“Oh, the curse!” said Myrtle, her expression changing. “I remember my first time. I fainted in the middle of Herbology,” she added with gloomy satisfaction. “Bertie Bones managed to stop me falling before I tipped over the Mandrakes or we’d have all been dead.” She let out a mournful sigh. “Maybe that would have been _better_...” She stopped as she saw Ginny about to put the knickers back into her satchel. “No, no, over there!” She pointed out a small cubby hole in the corner of the room near the door.

“That wasn’t there before!” Ginny protested. There was a small handle in the cubby hole with a house elf carved on it. She pulled it and discovered a curved drawer.

“They appear when they’re needed, of course!” Myrtle said, rolling her eyes. “All thanks to Rowena Ravenclaw. Thank Merlin we had a woman design the castle, you know a man would never have thought of it!”

Ginny couldn’t disagree with that. “So I put the knickers in here?” she asked, still a bit suspicious.

“Yes. All the chutes go to the laundry room and the house elves bring them back with the rest of your washing. If you have washing to bring back, of course. I tried putting things down there before but they never brought them back...” Myrtle’s eyes filled with tears but Ginny ignored her.

“House elves?” she repeated. A thought sparked in her brain and let off a chain of fireworks. She dropped the knickers into the drawer and laughed as a fresh cotton roll appeared in its place. “House elves!” she shouted, grabbing the roll. “Myrtle, you’re a genius!”

Myrtle looked stunned. “I am?” It was obvious that nobody had said that to her in a long time, perhaps ever.

Ginny darted inside a cubicle, not bothering to shut the door, and quickly changed. Then she pushed her skirt down, grabbed her satchel and ran out. “Thank you!”

“For WHAT?!” Myrtle shrieked, her scream cut off as the heavy wooden door slammed shut.

Ginny flew back around the corner, down the stairs and flung herself through the classroom door, suddenly thankful that she came last in the alphabet. Professor Lupin raised his eyebrows slightly but made no other comment and indicated her empty desk.

“Your exam will last one hour,” he said as she took her seat. “There are two parts. The first part is theory and relates to our first year retread. The second part is practical and relates to this year’s topics. After thirty minutes, you will have to put down your quills and follow me outside. Any questions. Yes, Creevey?”

“What if one of us needs the toilet, sir?”

A ripple of laughter ran through the room. Colin needed the loo at least once in every exam. Not even Snape’s death glare could subdue his bladder. Professor Lupin smiled for a moment.

“Then I will ask one of the monitors at the door to escort you there and back again. Now,” he glanced at his watch, “it’s exactly two o’clock. You may begin.”

Ginny grabbed her quill, but not to make notes for the exam. She needed to make a plan to get down to the kitchens and ask the house elves if there was a way out of the castle _not_ guarded by Dementors. She knew from Fred and George that the house elves were lenient with rule breakers and she was pretty certain that they disliked the Dementors. Then she would be able to dash down there using a back staircase when she saw Crookshanks leaving and finally find out what was going on with that dog. Satisfied, she turned back to the exam and realised she only had fifteen minutes left. Ginny took a deep breath, dipped her quill in more ink and began to write down everything she could remember about their discussion of ethics and what constituted ‘dark’ magic. She only just managed to make sure that what she’d written made sense before Lupin said “Quills down” and they had to stand up and follow him outside for the practical part of the exam.

The practical part of the exam consisted of identifying various magical obstacles and the smaller magical creatures: doxies, fairies, pixies, murtlaps and a whole cage of nifflers. The nifflers were easy to identify because they became very excited at the sight of earrings and started throwing themselves against the glass, causing Professor Lupin to step in and obscure the glass on their side so they could no longer see their observers.

Even afterwards, when normally she would have joined in with the post-exam analysis, trying to work out how she’d done, Ginny was still obsessing about how to get down to the kitchens. The second years were heading back towards the common room when she saw a flash of red out of the corner of her eye. Glancing towards the left, she saw the twins appearing behind a suit of armour with two heads. Her heart leapt – there had to be a secret passage there. She crept up behind them and tapped George on the shoulder. He jumped and Fred jumped with him.

“Bloody hell, Ginny, we thought you were McGonagall!”

“Or Percy,” Fred said, glancing around to make sure their elder brother hadn’t just walked around the corner. “Bit of warning next time, eh?”

“You got that from the kitchens, didn’t you?” Ginny said, glancing at the sack George was carrying.

Fred winked. “Had our last exam today, thought we’d have a little feast of our own.”

Ginny grinned at him. “Mind sharing your secret?”

George elbowed Fred before he could answer. “Just what are you planning?” he said, raising his eyebrows.

Ginny raised her eyebrows in response, the picture of innocence. “Maybe I want to plan my own feast? Maybe I’m in need of a midnight snack sometimes?”

“And maybe Snape’ll get the Defence Against the Dark Arts job next year!” Fred retorted. “It’s dangerous out there at the moment, we don’t want you wandering around–!”

“You filthy hypocrite!” Ginny said, almost laughing despite her anger at the double standard. “It’s all right for you and George to go around breaking rules, but when I try and do it – well, fine. I thought you were worried about me ending up like Percy, but you won’t even help me go down to the kitchens. I think I’ll go and do some revising like a good little girl.”

She had barely taken one step towards the common room before she felt hands grabbing her arms.

“Okay, okay, we’ll tell you!” Fred snapped, his voice wobbly with panic. “Just… just keep it to yourself, all right?”

Ginny jerked out of their grip, turned and folded her arms, glaring at them. “Since when have I _ever_ told on you?”

“These are precious secrets, we’re handing over!” Fred said, looking equally serious. “We don’t want you telling just anyone.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “What do you want, an Unbreakable Vow?” She smirked as the twins looked awkward. “That’s what I thought.”

Thanks to the remaining exams, the corridors were empty of teachers but the twins still insisted on moving away and finding a tapestry.

“It’s just behind the armour…”

“You have to tap your wand on the third brick from the floor three times.”

“Wait for five seconds and push, then the door’ll open.”

“And to close it, just tap your wand on the door three times again. There are lights in the passage for the house elves. It’s pretty small –”

“But you’re short so it probably won’t be so uncomfortable for you!”

“Then you take the third exit on the left and follow your nose.”

Ginny grinned at them. “Thanks.”

Soft fur brushed against her legs and she turned to see Crookshanks trotting past her. Without another thought, she ran after him. She might as well put the twins’ advice into practice.

Fred and George hadn’t lied to her. She immediately caught the smell of chocolate inside the passage. The path became steeper and steeper until her foot slipped and she rolled out through a tiny door right into the middle of the kitchens.

For a moment, Ginny lay in a heap, burning with embarrassment at her entrance and wondering what the house elves would do. Yet there was no interruption in the noise, no clash or smash of crockery. She pushed herself up onto her knees and brushed the hair away from her face.

The kitchen had a ceiling as high as the Great Hall, but instead of showing the sky, it showed recipes: instructions that wrote themselves in golden script and then vanished as soon as the action was completed. Therefore some of the lines (‘bake for one hour’) remained, while others (‘finely chop the onions’) vanished almost as soon as they’d appeared. The walls were hung with copper pots that threw warm light across the room at each other, and the air was filled with hissing, bubbling, chopping and the high contented murmur of house elves.

An elf hurried towards her, bulbous eyes glowing with delight. “Miss has come with a message from her brothers? More food?”

Ginny jumped up, brushing herself down. “No, I need to know the way out of here.”

The elf’s eyes widened. There was a sudden hush in the kitchens, though the house elves carried on with their preparations.

Ginny’s mind was racing, clicking through plausible excuses faster than Mum’s knitting needles. “I’m trying to help Harry Potter,” she said, crossing her fingers behind her back as this wasn’t the whole truth. “But I need to get out of the castle without the Dementors spotting me. Do any of you know a door or a passage which could get me out into the grounds?”

There was a crash behind her and she heard someone call her name. She spun round, sure that a teacher had discovered her missing. When she saw Esmé standing by the main doors, she felt a spark of relief that was quickly drowned by anger.  
  
“What are you doing?” she demanded.  
  
“I could ask you the same thing!” said Esmé, returning Ginny’s glare. “You weren’t exactly subtle about running off there!”  
  
“Like it’s any of your business,” Ginny snapped, the knowledge that she was being rude only making her angrier.  
  
“Well, the last time you ran off on your own, you nearly got crushed to death, so forgive me for being worried!”  
  
“This is different!”  
  
“Really.”  
  
The deadpan tone of Esmé’s voice was infuriating. Ginny turned around. “We’re wasting time, are you coming or not?” she said, taking out her wand.  
  
“Like I’m letting you go in there alone again.”  
  
Taking this as a ‘yes’, Ginny looked at the elf in front of her, who had been watching this with wide, worried eyes. “Can you get us past the Dementors?” she asked.  
  
The elf nodded, his eyes flicking from Ginny to Esmé, his ears switching back and forth. “This way,” he whispered and led them to the right through a small, ordinary door.  
  
Both of them paused for a moment as they stepped through. They were in a pantry the size of the Great Hall. Even though she knew that Hogwarts was huge, Ginny was stunned by the height of the ceiling and the rows and rows of shelves that reached above her. She could see jars of herbs and spices, plant pots containing nutmeg and mulberry trees, and bottle upon bottle of summer cordials.  
  
The house elf was standing by another smaller door in the left wall. “Miss Wheezy must hurry if she wants to get outside,” he urged.  
  
“Come on!” Ginny said, grabbing Esmé’s hand, and they ran after him.  
  
The door led into a passage so cramped that even Ginny had to bend down slightly. They trotted after the elf and Ginny tried to work out where they were from the direction the tunnel took them, but there were no landmarks, nothing she could use to orientate herself, and she started to feel breathless and slightly dizzy.  
  
“Are you all right?” Esmé asked, touching her shoulder.  
  
Ginny nodded, but she knew she did not look all right because Esmé called out, “Excuse me, I don’t know your name, but Ginny needs to stop!”  
  
“We is almost there!” the elf promised. He turned and tapped the right wall. The earth began to shift and fall away, revealing stairs. “This way!” he told them, and scampered up.  
  
They crawled out into sunlight that was almost blinding. Ginny pushed herself to her feet and swayed, eyes shut, trying not to gasp. Although spring was now turning into summer and the temperature was creeping up, the air was fresh and cool on her face, a measure of how warm it had been in the tunnel. She gripped her wand and opened her eyes, willing herself to stay still.  
  
They were standing on the edge of the forest, on a path of silvery beaten grass. Esmé was looking around, bewildered. “I’ve never seen this before!” she protested.  
  
“No witch or wizard can see elf paths unless a house elf is with them,” the elf remarked. “They is invisible to other creatures.”  
  
“Like Dementors!” Esmé grinned at him. “Clever.”  
  
“Why do you need a path?” Ginny asked. “I thought the Apparition rules didn’t apply to house elves.”  
  
The house elf looked shocked. “A path is always needed in a forest, Miss Wheezy. Otherwise we might be finding ourselves lost!”  
  
“We’re looking for Crookshanks, right?” Esmé asked, turning to the forest. She lifted her wand and drew the shape of a triangle in the air. _“Felis Invenio!”_ A blue light shot from her wand and moved into the forest, leaving a trail of sparks. “Now we’ll catch him!” She turned, her eyes alight with excitement. “Coming?”  
  
Ginny nodded and looked at the elf. “Thank you,” she said. “I won’t forget this.”  
  
“It’s nothing, Miss Wheezy,” the house elf said, looking bashful. “Dobby is just glad you is all right.”  
  
This was an odd response but Ginny didn’t have time to analyse it. She gave him a smile and ran after Esmé, who was holding out her wand to keep the sparks visible. Ginny was glad of this, although she didn’t say so: the summer sunshine only made the forest’s shadows darker.  
  
“It’s a good thing Rowena didn’t come after you,” Esmé said without turning around. “She wouldn’t have been able to get through that tunnel.”  
  
Ginny almost tripped. “Rowena was going to come after me?”  
  
“We were all going to come after last time! But I said it would look suspicious if we all disappeared at the same time. If anyone asks about you, they’re going to say you ran off because you were upset about the exam and I’ve gone to look for you. I know it’s not really your style, but it’ll be a good enough excuse for a teacher, or a prefect if your brother asks.”  
  
Ginny felt her stomach twist with guilt. “You didn’t have to do that,” she muttered. _Especially not after the fight we had._  
  
“I’m not doing this just for you,” Esmé said, sidestepping a clump of nettles. “I want to find out what’s going on! And spot a unicorn, if possible. What exactly were you going to say when you came back, anyway?”  
  
There was a long pause. They were moving through ferns now, which were shoulder height for Ginny, so she had to keep pushing them away. “I’d have thought of something.”  
  
“That’s it? After what happened last year, I thought you’d –”  
  
“You don’t know anything about last year!” Ginny had to fight back the urge to scream, so her voice sounded high and brittle.  
  
“I know the Heir of Slytherin dragged you into the Chamber. I know we all thought we’d never see you again and we all blamed ourselves for not telling McGonagall that you were acting strangely.” Esmé’s voice was tight. “I know that Harry Potter went in and rescued you and McGonagall told us not to ask you any questions about how he’d done it. I know that you started acting like everything was fine again, except it wasn’t, because you couldn’t sleep through the night.”  
  
The ferns were dying out now and the path was heading downhill. Golden rays pushed through the trees and midges danced in the shafts of light. The trail of blue sparks was getting thicker. Ginny gripped her wand, trembling with a mixture of anger and shame. Would she always feel this way whenever anyone mentioned her first year?  
  
“I’m sorry if I woke you up,” she said through gritted teeth.  
  
“That’s not the point and you know it. You could have asked for help, Ginny! You could have said something to one of us! But you didn’t, and you nearly died. I’m not letting that happen again.”  
  
“It was my problem!”  
  
“Only because you didn’t share it with anyone. Your house is supposed to be like your family, that’s what McGonagall said in our first year. We’re supposed to trust each other, help each other. But you didn’t trust us. You still don’t.”  
  
“How can I trust you when I don’t even trust myself?!” Ginny heard Esmé stop and turn to look at her but she couldn’t meet Esmé’s gaze. “So many people got hurt last year because of me… I didn’t know what was going on, I thought I was going mad!”  
  
“Ginny, what are you talking about?” Esmé asked, bewildered. “It wasn’t your fault. You were a victim, just like all those people who got Petrified.”  
  
“You don’t understand,” Ginny muttered, furious at Esmé for her persistence and furious at herself for the tears that were now blurring her vision.  
  
“Then help me understand.” When Ginny looked up, she was shocked to see that Esmé looked tearful, too. “Tell me what happened. Trust me.”  
  
“I can’t!” Ginny ran past her, following the thickening trail of blue, almost falling in her haste to get away. Why did Esmé have to keep bringing it up? Why couldn’t she understand that this was the only way Ginny could protect her, protect the others? Probably because she didn’t know about the diary. But Ginny couldn’t tell her about that. She hadn’t talked about it with anyone, not even Mum, because Dumbledore had done that for her. How could she start explaining now? She didn’t even have the words. Riddle had taken them from her.  
  
The realisation of this made her stop in her tracks. Her chest hurt from how fast she’d run. She could see sparks dancing in a circle between two trees, where the path dipped down again. Crookshanks must be very near. Ginny heard a sigh. She lifted her wand and moved forward, placing her feet with as much care as possible. She didn’t want to be spotted until she was sure it was safe. Five steps took her to the right-hand tree; she pressed her back against it and peered around the trunk.  
  
She saw a clearing. She saw Crookshanks. She saw a man, his clothes ragged and grey, his face gaunt and pale from years of being locked in shadow. Long, tangled hair hung around his face but Ginny didn’t need a closer look. She knew who it was.  
  
Ginny stopped breathing for a moment. Afterwards, she was almost sure her heart stopped beating, as well. Her mind went into freefall. She had to warn Esmé, they had to run, she couldn’t let Esmé get hurt, she couldn’t stand the thought of endangering another person’s life.  
  
It all happened too fast. She turned to run, to warn Esmé, but Esmé was running towards her, Esmé tried to slow down but tripped on the slope and crashed into her, they both fell backwards into the clearing, Ginny couldn’t get up because Esmé was on top of her, she was pushing but Esmé wouldn’t move fast enough, she twisted her head and saw Sirius Black raising his wand. She screamed and pushed and finally Esmé moved, but she moved the wrong way.  
  
She jumped in front of Ginny.  
  
A red beam shot from Black’s wand and Esmé dropped to the ground like a stone.  
  
“ESMÉ!”  
  
Finally her body moved, she pushed herself to her knees and lifted her wand, but Crookshanks was blocking her. Then she realised he wasn’t blocking her: he was blocking Black, who looked startled.  
  
“Get out of the way,” he muttered, his voice creaky like an unused door, but Crookshanks didn’t move. He actually sat down and stared at the man as if they had all the time in the world.  
  
Ginny touched Esmé’s cheek and was startled by the warmth of the skin. She saw that Esmé was breathing; her eyes were closed, not open and blank as they would have been with the Killing Curse. Black hadn’t killed her. Why?  
  
She looked back at him and licked her lips, her mouth dry. “Why isn’t she dead?”  
  
Black looked at her as if he were surprised she could speak Then he scowled. “Because dead bodies need hiding. Can’t afford to have Hagrid discover a dead student, might give away my location to the Dementors. Making someone forget they saw you is much simpler. Speaking of which…” He raised his wand.  
  
“You didn’t kill my brother, either!” Ginny pushed herself to her feet, knees wobbly, keeping hold of her wand.  
  
Black lowered his wand slightly and stared at her. “What?”  
  
“You didn’t kill my brother, that night in the tower.” The words tumbled from Ginny’s lips, her mind racing. “You could have killed everyone in that tower with one Killing Curse, as you did those Muggles, but you didn’t. You had a knife! Why?! And why my brother?!”  
  
Black said nothing. His silence made Ginny braver.  
  
“I’ve read the books!” she said. “You were best friends with James Potter, so you must know what Harry looks like. Why would you threaten my brother?!”  
  
Black dropped his wand, staring at her, dazed. “Your brother? That was _your_ brother? Wait…” His eyes narrowed. “You were in the photograph!”  
  
It was Ginny’s turn to be puzzled. “What photograph?”  
  
“You can help me!” Black stepped forward and then stopped as he saw Ginny’s wand pointed at him.  
  
“Don’t come any closer!”  
  
“If he’s your brother, then you can help me!” Black looked desperate. Standing up, Ginny could see how thin he was, almost skin and bone, a reminder that he had been on the run for nearly a year. A wave of pity rushed over her and she swallowed.  
  
“I won’t help you hurt Harry.”  
  
“I don’t want to hurt Harry, you silly girl, I want to save him!”  
  
Ginny had been expecting anything but that. Her mouth dropped open but she kept her wand up. _“What?”_  
  
“Just get me the rat!” Black’s eyes gleamed. For the first time, he resembled the man in the Ministry photograph. “Or if you won’t bring him to me, tell me where he is! That’s all I need!”  
  
“And then what?” Ginny asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
“Then Harry will be safe. And I’ll go.”  
  
“Go where?”  
  
“Anywhere. I just need to know where the rat is.”  
  
Ginny knew she was probably being a stupid little girl again, but she believed him. She’d heard so many horror stories about Sirius Black and none of them seemed to fit the man in front of her, a man who had gone in search of a rat with a knife rather than kill a dormitory of sleeping boys, a man who had wiped Esmé’s memory when a dead body could be Transfigured and hidden in a matter of minutes. None of it made sense.  
  
“I’m sorry,” she said. “But he’s dead. Scabbers died a month ago. Crookshanks…”  
  
“Crookshanks wouldn’t kill him,” Black said impatiently. “He was only trying to incapacitate the rat so that my revenge would be easier. Don’t you see? The rat faked his death!”  
  
Ginny’s heart sank. _I’m sorry, Hermione. You were right._ “You’re mad,” she said. “You’re completely mad! Rats don’t pretend to be dead!”  
  
“That’s exactly what rats do if they don’t want to be caught.” For a moment, he looked so disappointed that she had a ridiculous urge to apologise. “You can’t understand. You’re just a little girl.”  
  
Crookshanks let out a hiss. The brewing sympathy and pity inside Ginny vanished, replaced by boiling rage. She forgot that she was indeed a little girl and he was an adult wizard. She forgot that she was a second year and this man was a mass murderer and Voldemort’s former right-hand man. She was not going to let anyone underestimate her again.  
  
“Expelliarmus!” she shouted. As Black’s wand flew out of his hand, she slashed the air with her own, heard a crunch and saw the blood begin to pour from Black’s nose. Growing up with six brothers had its advantages. She whirled and pointed her wand at Esmé. “Enervate!”  
  
Esmé’s eyes fluttered. Ginny dropped to her knees and shook her.  
  
“Wake up, Esmé, come on!”  
  
“You stupid girl!” Black shouted. Ginny glanced over her shoulder and saw that the blood was dripping from his chin onto the ground as he picked up his wand. The rage in his voice made it shake. “Do you realise what you’ve done?!”  
  
There was a rustle somewhere nearby and Crookshanks suddenly began to make that high, unnerving whine that a cat only makes when it is frightened. Ginny saw his eyes grow huge with fear and his coat puff out so that he looked twice his normal size. Black whirled to face the trees behind him, wand held out.  
  
Ginny went cold. “What is it?”  
  
“There’s a reason the forest is forbidden,” said Black. His anger was gone. He sounded almost calm. This terrified Ginny most of all. She grabbed Esmé under the arms and pulled her upwards. Esmé moaned and kicked out feebly.  
  
Black looked at them over his shoulder. His face was resolute. “You need to take your friend and run.”  
  
“Run? She can’t even walk!”  
  
“You need to get out of the forest as fast as possible. Run and don’t look back.” Black pointed his wand and Ginny flinched. “Enervate.”  
  
Esmé gasped and her eyes flew open. She gazed at Ginny, bewildered. “Ginny?”  
  
“We need to run! Go, now!” Ginny grabbed her arm and pulled her up out of the clearing. Crookshanks bounded ahead of them as they stumbled up the slope. They heard the crunch of bark behind them and then a weird metallic clicking. Esmé cried out and suddenly she was the one pulling Ginny, following the orange streak of Crookshanks’s tail.  
  
“What is it?” Ginny shouted, trying to look over her shoulder.  
  
“Don’t look back, just run!” Esmé gasped. “We can’t let them catch us!”  
  
The trees creaked overhead and Ginny looked up to see a large black mass move over their heads. Esmé swore under her breath and veered left. Ginny began to shout at her and then spotted what her friend had already seen: a blackthorn thicket. She braced herself and shut her eyes. The spiny branches caught at their robes and scratched their cheeks, but they were both still small enough to push through into the centre and grab the crooked trunks.  
  
“What is it?” Ginny whispered, glancing around. She could hear the clicking again and it made her shiver.  
  
“Acromantula.”  
  
“WHAT?!” For a brief moment, Ginny thought Esmé was teasing her, but the fear in her friend’s eyes convinced her that this was no joke. “That’s… not possible! They live in the tropics!”  
  
“Well, apparently they also live in the Forbidden Forest !” Esmé snapped. “What the hell happened, Ginny? The last thing I remember is falling down the slope. What did you do to attract their attention? Wait!” She patted her head and turned around, pushing up her hair to expose the nape of her neck. “Am I bleeding?”  
  
“What?” Ginny glanced at her friend’s neck. “No, why?”  
  
Esmé let her hair drop down and turned around, pulling up her robes and then her jeans to inspect her legs. “Acromantula are carnivores, right?”  
  
Ginny’s heart began to sink. “Right.”  
  
“So they have a very keen sense of smell. And if they smell blood, which to them means an injured animal, it’s like a neon light –”  
  
“A what?”  
  
“A beacon,” Esmé corrected herself. “They’ll head straight for the source of the scent.” She pushed her jeans back down. “Nothing.”  
  
Ginny swallowed. “They’re not smelling your blood. They’re smelling mine.”  
  
“What?! You’ve been bleeding all this time? Why didn’t you say anything, we could have stopped it!”  
  
“No,” Ginny whispered. “We can’t.”  
  
Esmé’s expression changed. She looked at Ginny’s stomach and then back at her face. “Please tell me you’re joking.”  
  
Ginny shook her head.  
  
“Oh my GOD!” Esmé put her head in her hands. “How could you be so stupid?! We are screwed, we are so screwed!”  
  
Ginny felt sick. She wanted to say she was sorry but that wasn’t going to get them out of here. “Look!” she said angrily, blinking away tears. “I know it was stupid not to think about the blood, but could we have this argument when we’re not in danger of being eaten by giant carnivorous spiders?”  
  
Esmé lifted her head, glared at her for a moment, then took a deep breath and straightened. “Fine.”  
  
“You said the Acromantula are attracted to the scent of my blood. What if we covered that scent with something else?”  
  
Esmé frowned, thinking. “It would have to be a really strong smell, Ginny.”  
  
“Oh trust me,” said Ginny, crossing her fingers that she remembered the spell correctly, “it’s strong.”  
  
Esmé sighed. “Okay. But we can’t do it in here or they’ll guess it’s still us, they’re not stupid. We need to make a run for it.” She put a foot forward and grabbed two branches to give herself an extra push. “On three, okay?”  
  
Ginny nodded, wishing that they had a broomstick.  
  
“One… two… three!”  
  
They burst out of the thicket, running as hard as they could. Ginny heard a crash and felt a massive thump behind them. The clicking was so close that she could almost feel the pincers on her back. She pointed her wand over her shoulder and silently asked the wand to do its best.  
  
_“Erumpo Chiroptera!”_  
  
There was an ear-piercing shriek and Ginny dared a glance over her shoulder. The Acromantula was being attacked by thousands of flapping bats and it was flailing its legs to try and get them off. Ginny felt a sudden glow of pride cut through her anger and guilt at their situation. At least she could get something right.  
  
“Brilliant,” Esmé said, grabbing Ginny’s arm. “But they hunt in packs, so we’d better not hang around!”  
  
Ginny knew then that she didn’t have time to say the whole incantation, she would just have to point and hope for the best.  
  
“Have you got that spell ready?” Esmé asked.  
  
“Yes.” Even as she lifted her wand, Ginny could hear her mother’s voice: _“Never try short cuts with spells. They can backfire, there can be terrible consequences.”_ It was one of Ginny’s earliest memories. Charlie and Bill had been duelling; one of them had ended up with green scales on his back while the other had purple boils streaked across his face, all because they’d been trying to shorten spells. And now here she was, about to attempt the same thing.  
  
_“PUTEO!”_  
  
A green cloud enveloped Esmé. Ginny pointed the wand at herself and said the incantation again before her courage failed. She gagged when the cloud hit her and had to put her hands over her mouth.  
  
“You’re right, Ginny,” said Esmé in a strangled voice. “It is strong.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Ginny answered, trying not to be sick. “I had to shorten the spell…”  
  
“Never mind, let’s run, maybe it’ll be easier to breathe!”  
  
They took off again, heading to the right out of instinct. They could still hear trees creaking and a faint clicking, but Ginny couldn’t imagine any animal wanting to come near them like this.  
  
“I hope Crookshanks got out safely,” she panted as they reached the ferns.  
  
“He’s got four legs and probably any number of hiding places,” Esmé replied. “What was he doing there anyway?”  
  
“Nothing much.” There was no way Ginny could tell her that Crookshanks was apparently in cahoots with Sirius Black, let alone that Black’s plan was to save Harry from Scabbers, who had faked his death. Esmé wouldn’t believe that and who could blame her? Ginny wasn’t even sure if _she_ believed it.  
  
Esmé sighed. “So he wasn’t doing anything? What about that big dog, did you see him?”  
  
“Nope.”  
  
“Typical.”  
  
They were nearing the castle grounds now, but neither of them slowed down. Only when they reached the very edge of the forest did Ginny lift the Stink Charm. Esmé let out a whoop. “God, that was close!”  
  
Ginny nodded. She couldn’t stop shaking. “Now all we have to do is get back to the castle and up to the common room without anyone seeing us.”  
  
Esmé’s smile faded. “Ah. Yeah. That.”

There was a crunch of wood above them. Ginny looked up: a black mass filled her vision, something landed on her stomach, she fell and Esmé’s scream was cut off in mid-sentence.  
  
When Ginny opened her eyes, she was lying in the tunnel, and her robes were soaked. She swore under her breath and got up.  
  
“Lumos!”  
  
She looked down and saw she was covered in blood. It was dripping from the ceiling, it was running around her feet. She looked up to see where it was coming from, and the shrill whine of a dog in pain hurtled through the tunnel.  
  
She couldn’t have moved to confront him for herself, but the knowledge he was hurting the dog lent her wings and filled her with righteous fury. She wouldn’t allow him to hurt another innocent, she would be the rescuer this time.  
  
There were the two entwined snakes. She passed through the wall without a blink and she was standing in the Chamber, its walls and floor stained red. The black dog and the Remus-wolf lay before her, barely breathing. Just beyond them was the diary.  
  
Ginny felt terror rise up and grip her heart. She forced herself to move forward, she had to help the animals. She didn’t know why Tom had hurt them – no, she knew, of course she knew. It was Harry. Ever since she first mentioned him, Tom had been obsessed with Harry - _He still is,_ said a small voice in her head – somehow the dog and the wolf belonged to Harry and Tom was using them to hurt Harry, to bring him here, but she wouldn’t let that happen.  
  
She lifted her wand and pointed it at the diary. Water hadn’t worked so maybe fire would.  
  
The diary flipped open and a white hand came out and pressed itself flat on the floor, skeletal with unnaturally long fingers. Ginny froze, a scream lodged in her throat. No, this couldn’t be happening. They couldn’t expect her to fight him face to face. Another hand came out of the opposite page and was followed by a spindly, spider leg of an arm. The hands scrabbled, trying to find purchase on the flat, slippery floor. Then they stopped moving and _pushed_ and Tom Riddle’s head, dark and handsome and soulless, emerged from the blank page and smirked at her.  
  
_He can’t kill me, Ginny._ His voice echoed around the Chamber. _Nobody can. Haven’t you learned that by now? I’m immortal._  
  
_No,_ Ginny whispered. _He killed you. You’re gone, you’re not coming back._  
  
_But I’ll always be here, Ginny. In your head. And as long as I’m in here, I’ll never die._  
  
Ginny wanted to scream. She couldn’t believe she’d come so far only to find that she was still powerless against him. She knelt and touched the wolf and the dog. They felt cold and heavy.  
  
Tom laughed and the sound bounced off the Chamber walls, surrounding her with mockery and contempt. _Take them. I don’t need them any more. I’m almost finished. Almost whole._ He grinned at her with sharp, pointed teeth.  
  
Ginny knew that her wand was no use here. She looked around, desperate for some kind of weapon, and saw that the Chamber was flooded with blood and the blood was rising, creeping over the floor towards them.  
  
_Ginny._  
  
Riddle was reaching out to her, his teeth growing larger and sharper.  
  
No, not again. Not AGAIN.  
  
_No!_ She struck out, knocking his hand away, and Tom screamed. The blood that had been on her hand and arm was bubbling like acid, eating into his skin and dissolving his fingers like sand in water.  
  
Ginny understood with perfect dream-logic. It was the blood. Blood was life and Tom’s body was born from death, there was no way it could hold together against such powerful, primitive magic. Blood was his undoing.  
  
She flung a wave of blood into Riddle’s face, then jumped up and slammed the diary shut, ignoring the crunch of bone as the dissolving hands tried to grab at her. She ran forward, about to throw the diary into the pool of blood when a sudden sharp pain in her ankle made her stumble and trip.  
  
The diary flew out of her hand and she saw Scabbers leap up and grab the diary between his teeth. She realised then that he had bitten her.  
  
_Scabbers! What are you doing, give that back!_ She fumbled for her wand. When she looked up, Scabbers had grown bigger. Much bigger. His fur was turning grey and his eyes were turning yellow and his teeth were growing.  
  
Ginny scrambled backwards, horrified. She had expected Tom. She had not expected this.  
  
_Why?_ she whispered. _Why are you on his side?_

The Scabbers-wolf growled at her, ears back and laid flat against his skull. The diary looked tiny in his mouth, but Ginny knew better than most that size was no indication of power. She had to get it back and make sure it was drowned in blood, she couldn’t let Scabbers rescue him.  
  
There was a snarl, and then the wolf and the dog were charging Scabbers, trying to pin him down, but Ginny could see it was too late, the blood was rising, they had to get out of here or they would be drowned. She pushed herself to her feet and then the wall exploded behind her and she turned to see Buckbeak cantering through the gap.  
  
_Come on!_ she yelled.

The Remus-wolf grabbed the dog by the scruff of the neck and dragged him away. Ginny pulled herself onto Buckbeak’s back and somehow the wolf and the dog managed to get up, too, and Buckbeak didn’t mind. He leapt into a gallop and the first beat of his wings lifted them out of the blood. Ginny knew a moment of triumph and then Luna’s voice said _“Enervate!”_  
  
She opened her eyes and the light was almost too bright. Luna and Esmé were looking down at her, and her head ached as if she’d been hit by a Bludger. “What…?”  
  
“Oh, thank God,” Esmé muttered, her eyes far too bright. “Thank you.”  
  
“It’s nice to be asked for help,” said Luna. “People tend to think I’m useless.”  
  
Ginny tried to shake her head but it hurt too much. “’S not true,” she muttered, trying to see where they were. “What happened?”  
  
“The Acromantula caught up with us. I guess the stink didn’t fool them for long,” Esmé said with a sigh. “One of them landed on you and knocked you out. I managed to tie its legs together with a spell, then Luna arrived and helped me carry you back to the castle.”  
  
“Weren’t you spotted?”  
  
“I’ve made a study of what times Filch lets Mrs Norris out,” Luna assured her, looking almost proud. “After he does that, he usually smokes a pipe by the greenhouses and the castle door is open for thirteen minutes and around forty-two seconds. It used to be shorter, but he hasn’t been as vigilant with the Dementors around. I think he almost likes having them here.”  
  
“He would,” Esmé muttered. “Sadistic git.”  
  
“I know your head hurts, Ginny, but you need to stand up,” Luna went on, taking hold of Ginny’s right arm. “We have to get you back to the Gryffindor common room before you’re missed.”  
  
“What about you?” Ginny asked, trying to sit up. The world spun and she shut her eyes.

“Oh, nobody cares where I am,” Luna said with a shrug. “Would you mind putting Ginny’s arm around your neck, Esmé?”

Esmé nodded. She did as Luna suggested, but Ginny could tell that Luna’s statement had shocked her.

They were in a small music room near the Great Hall. Luna knew a back staircase up to the third floor, but from then on they were creeping down corridors and trying not to get spotted by prefects or teachers. Ginny kept her eyes closed most of the way, because it was hard to accept what her brain was telling her. Scabbers. It had been Scabbers all along. Why? That was the question she should have asked Black. Why Scabbers? What could he possibly gain from helping You Know Who? Her stomach clenched as they rounded a corner and she clapped a hand over her mouth.

“You need to go the hospital wing,” Esmé said, her eyes scanning Ginny’s face.

“And what are you going to tell a teacher or prefect if they spot you?” Ginny demanded, closing her eyes and telling herself not to throw up.

“You’re not the only one who knows how to lie,” Esmé muttered. “Luna, take her to Madam Pomfrey, tell her you found Ginny in the girls’ loo – the broken one. The floor’s always wet from Myrtle flooding the place, so it’s plausible that Ginny could have slipped and fallen. I’ll go and tell the others you’re ‘okay’…”

“All right,” Luna agreed. “Be careful.”

Ginny wanted to protest but she was feeling too weak. All she could do was follow Luna’s lead and try to make her legs walk one at a time. Madam Pomfrey took one look at her and put her to bed. She conjured a cold compress and instructed Luna to press that against Ginny’s head until she was feeling better.

Ginny lay there, grateful that Luna wasn’t trying to make conversation. She couldn’t believe they’d made it all the way there and back again without receiving detention or getting in trouble. She couldn’t believe she’d confronted Tom, even if he had escaped. And yet none of this made her feel better about what had happened in the forest. She relived her confrontation with Black over and over again, closed her eyes and saw Scabbers turning into a wolf.

_As you’re pretty, so be wise.  
Wolves may lurk in any guise._

“How is she?” said Esmé’s voice.

“Awake,” Ginny responded, opening her eyes.

“I told your brother that you’d slipped and fallen in the loos, he’ll probably be here in a minute,” Esmé confessed. She made a face. “Sorry.”

“The prefect one?” Luna asked. “Then I suppose I’d better go. He’ll wonder what I’m doing out of my common room.”

“Thank you so much, Luna,” Esmé said, giving her a heartfelt smile. “If it weren’t for you, Ginny and I might still be stuck out there.”

Luna gave them a dreamy smile and floated off.

“She’s nice, isn’t she?” Esmé said, watching her go. “I’ve never really spoken to her before…” She looked back at Ginny. “What she said about nobody caring where she is…”

“I don’t think she has any friends in Ravenclaw,” Ginny said with a frown.

“What? None at all?” Esmé stared into space for a moment. “I can’t imagine what that feels like.”

“I can,” Ginny said quietly.

“Ginny, you’ve got friends. Me, Rowena, Catharine, Neville, Hermione Granger – even Colin, if you want to count him.”

“That’s now. I’m talking about last year.”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about last year.”

Ginny swallowed. “What you said… I know what happened wasn’t my fault, but sometimes my head says one thing and my heart says another, you know?”

Esmé looked sad. “Yeah. I know.”

“It was You Know Who,” Ginny whispered, forcing the words out. “You Know Who was the Heir of Slytherin.”

“Voldemort-?!”

“Don’t say the name!”

“Sorry! But… why? Why would he…?”

“He was trying to get at Harry. He’s obsessed with Harry, with beating him.” Ginny stared up at the ceiling, eyes burning. “He used me to get at him.”

Esmé was silent. When Ginny dared a glance, she was staring at the blankets. She wondered when Esmé would get up and go, what she’d tell the others. Then Esmé spoke.

“Papa didn’t want me to come back here.”

“What?”

“That’s why I didn’t send you any letters. When I arrived in France, he put me under house arrest.”

For a moment, Ginny didn’t understand what she was hearing. It was so different from anything she’d imagined. “Why would he do that?”

Esmé hugged herself. “When I turned eleven… I had to pick between Hogwarts and Beauxbatons. Papa told me that he was fine about me choosing Hogwarts, but he lied. When I visited this year, he accused Mummy of turning me against him.” Esmé laughed, a harsh angry sound. “Because keeping me trapped in the family chateau isn’t going to damage our relationship at all, right?” She sighed. “Of course, after he said that, he immediately knew he’d made a mistake. He told me that he was afraid of losing me, that he didn’t want me to forget my heritage.” She rubbed her nose. “If it hadn’t been for Elisabeth and your father –”

“Who’s Elisabeth?”

“My stepmother.” Esmé smiled at Ginny’s surprise. “They’re not all wicked, you know. Though it’s pretty tragic I get on better with my stepmother than my own father, isn’t it? Anyway, Elisabeth and your father managed to persuade him that he wasn’t doing me any favours by keeping me locked up, not to mention breaking quite a few French and British laws, both magical and Muggle.”

Ginny drew her knees up to her chest and noticed that her period pains had vanished. Nothing like confronting a convicted murderer and being chased by monsters to make your body realise what was really important. “I’m sorry, Esmé,” she said. “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“I know.” Esmé smiled at her, a little stronger than before. “And I’d appreciate if you didn’t tell the others.”

Ginny nodded. “Of course.”

“They just want to hear about what we did this afternoon.”

“But nothing happened!”

Esmé raised her eyebrows. “We managed to sneak out of the castle, escape Acromantula _and_ get back inside without one teacher or prefect spotting us. I wouldn’t say that’s ‘nothing’.” She patted Ginny’s leg. “See you up there.”

Percy charged in just as Esmé left. Ginny settled back and resigned herself to a lecture about walking not running and a barrage of questions about what she’d been doing in the loo. Still, it wasn’t all bad: Percy’s arrival meant that she had a Madam Pomfrey-approved escort back to the common room. Naturally, the rest of the year had now found out about her and Esmé’s adventure and pelted her with questions about what had happened. Ginny knew that she could make up any amount of lies but they would never believe what had actually happened. And she wanted to tell someone. She looked around for Ron and Hermione, but they were still sitting their final exams. And they looked so subdued when they came back that Ginny assumed their exams had gone badly (well, Ron’s final exam had been Divination, so that was a given) and decided to leave them alone until after dinner.

Harry, Ron and Hermione disappeared after dinner. Nobody noticed at first, apart from Ginny. Percy sent the Gryffindor prefects out to look for them. He only started to look worried when the prefects came back and reported that nobody had seen the three of them since dinner. Ginny wondered what on earth they were doing, risking detention and loss of points so close to the end of the year, when the House Cup was Gryffindor’s for the taking. She caught Neville’s eye and he wandered over to where she was sitting.

“Did they…?” he asked.

Ginny shook her head. “No. Nothing. You?”

He shook his head and tried to smile. “I’m a liability.”

“That makes two of us,” Ginny muttered.

“I think it’s something to do with Hagrid,” Neville whispered, glancing at the portrait hole where Percy stood conferring with Professor McGonagall. “Hermione told me he lost the appeal. Buckbeak’s going to be executed at sunset.”

Ginny felt her stomach drop. She put her hands to her mouth, unable to speak for a moment. “Oh no… poor Hagrid.”

“What is it?” Esmé put a hand on Ginny’s shoulder, alarmed by her expression. “Are you feeling sick? Madam Pomfrey said if you felt sick or dizzy that you should go straight back to the hospital wing–”

“They’re going to execute Buckbeak,” Ginny said through her fingers.

Esmé’s hand dropped. She looked at Neville, who nodded, and then sank into the chair next to Ginny, face white. “Those… _cowards_,” she whispered.

“Do you think Harry and Ron and Hermione have gone to try and stop it?” Ginny asked, looking up at Neville.

Neville shook his head. “No. I think they just wanted to be with Hagrid. It’s official. There’s nothing they can do. What’s happening is wrong… but it’s the law.”

“Then the law’s an ass,” Esmé muttered.

None of them felt like staying up any longer after this exchange. Esmé and Ginny made their excuses and went up to bed. For the first time in months, Ginny missed the diary. She missed having somewhere to put her thoughts and feelings, somewhere she could pick them apart and review what had happened.

_So make a list,_ she thought, lying in bed. Lists were how Mum kept track of everything they needed for school and they seemed to work for her. Ginny grabbed her wand, a roll of parchment, her quill and an ink-pot. She drew the curtains of her bed, whispered _“Lumos!”_ and then cast _Wingardium Leviosa_ on the ink-pot so she wouldn’t tip it over (she’d learned that lesson at six years-old after watching Charlie’s attempts to vanish ink from his bedsheets after pulling an all-nighter with holiday homework).

_1\. Sirius Black wasn’t after Harry OR Ron. He was after Scabbers._

Ginny paused. Written down it seemed even more unbelievable and she would have dismissed his rant entirely, except... except for Crookshanks. _Ron was right!_ she thought, a chill travelling down her back. _He was right that Crookshanks had it in for Scabbers... and he’ll never know._

_2\. Scabbers <s>was</s> is working for You Know Who._

Tears burnt her eyes and she shut them, taking a deep breath. She couldn’t remember the Burrow without Scabbers. He’d always been there, snoozing in Percy’s room or on the back of the sofa: he was part of the family. If someone was lazy, they were “lazy like Scabbers”; if they slept soundly, they “slept like Scabbers”. He was harmless, harmless...

_Crookshanks didn’t think so,_ said that small clear voice inside her head that sounded a bit like Mum. _Animals know, don’t they? They can tell if someone’s untrustworthy. That’s why Kneazles were bred in the first place._

“But why?” she whispered. “Why would he want to?” It was a silly question, she knew the answer as soon as the words left her mouth: power. It was the same as Crabbe and Goyle hanging around Malfoy.

_3\. You Know Who can be defeated._

Harry had done it three times; she’d done it in a dream, defeated him with her own blood. Ginny tickled her lips with the edge of the feather, trying to remember what she’d thought in the dream; for the first time, she deliberately thought about what Riddle had said as he stood over her, eating away at her soul.

_He wants to live forever but he isn’t interested in anything that makes life worth living. All he cares about is power, nothing else. Life itself doesn’t matter to him. Life is cheap! And love-_

Ginny stopped writing. She remembered lying on the floor, hearing Tom’s voice as he stood over her, mocking her feelings for Harry, telling her that love was useless, that it made you weak, that Harry would never notice her, never care. Except he’d been wrong: Harry had cared. He’d cared enough to come down to the Chamber without even knowing what he was facing, he’d cared enough to fight for her. And it had been her love for him that had helped her to be brave enough to save the wolf and the dog. _You were wrong!_ she thought and hid her face in the blankets, not even minding the tears that were now running down her cheeks. _Love doesn’t make you weak. Love makes you stronger. It made ME stronger._ She thought of her family, trying their best to take care of her, to make everything all right again; she thought of Neville, supporting her at Quidditch practices; she thought of Luna carrying her up to the infirmary and Esmé following her into the Forbidden Forest. Then she sat up, wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand and wrote the final item.

_4\. Love makes you stronger._

The next morning, she was the first up out of everyone. Her belly ached slightly but more like a strained muscle than anything else. She hurried down the stairs to the Great Hall. The doors were enchanted during the early morning to make sure nobody was disturbed by the early risers, which meant Ginny was unprepared for the wall of sound that greeted her when she walked inside. There was always a lot of chatter but this morning it was even louder than usual, more excited.

“Ginny!”

Fred and George beckoned her over.

“What’s going on?” she demanded as she sat down.

The twins glanced at each other, looking hesitant. This scared Ginny more than any teasing. She grabbed George’s arm and dug her nails in.

“Sirius Black got caught last night – and _escaped_.”

“WHAT?”

“With _Buckbeak_,” George added, a grin appearing on his face for the first time.

Ginny felt her heart suddenly skip. “You’re kidding!”

“Nope. And apparently Ron and Harry and Hermione were involved somehow, because they’ve all been in the hospital wing since last night and we weren’t allowed in to visit. Even Percy wasn’t allowed,” Fred added with a smirk of satisfaction.

“Why the hell would Sirius Black steal Buckbeak?” Ginny wondered.

“Dunno, but I bet Hagrid’s pretty grateful,” said George, glancing at the teachers’ table. Hagrid was eating a whole roasted pig. They hadn’t seen him look so happy in months.

“So… the Ministry captured Black then lost him _and_ a dangerous Hippogriff?” Ginny repeated, feeling a great sense of satisfaction well up inside her.

“Yup. Pre-tty embarrassing. Bet you there’ll be some guff in the Prophet about Black taking down twenty Aurors in his daring escape,” said Fred, helping himself to some more scrambled egg.

“Yep, major loss of face ahead unless he can pull something out of the bag!” George agreed.

Ginny laughed and shook her head. Snape was just sitting down at the Slytherin table. She wouldn’t have paid any more attention except that the whole table suddenly went quiet as he began to speak.

“What’s going on?” Fred said, frowning.

Snape finished speaking, got up and left. The Slytherin table exploded: some jumped up and ran out of the hall, shouting about owling their parents; others began to argue across the table, while some even ran up to the teachers’ table.

“Blimey!” George muttered, eyes wide. “Do you think Snape’s resigned?”

“Now _there’s_ a good reason to come back to school!” Fred laughed

Ginny jumped up and ran over to the Ravenclaw table, which was nearest to the Slytherins. She found Luna sitting on the end, staring into her porridge.

“Luna, what’s going on? What did Snape say? Please tell me he’s resigned!”

Luna shook her head. It was the first time that Ginny had seen her look upset. “No. It wasn’t about him. It was about Professor Lupin. He said…” Her voice faltered.

A boy with dark hair and blue eyes leaned forwards. “He said Professor Lupin’s a werewolf. And now they’ve gone to ask Dumbledore if it’s true.”

For a moment, Ginny wondered if she were dreaming. This was too unreal, this was too close to her nightmares. “Snape hates Lupin, he’d say anything to get the Defence Against the Dark Arts job!” she snapped.

“Maybe, but Professor Lupin’s been ill quite a lot this year and I bet if you plotted it out then it would coincide with the full moon,” said the boy with a shrug. “Personally, I’m more concerned about the fact that Snape must have known this for a while – all the teachers must have – and yet they never told us.”

Ginny grabbed Luna’s hand and squeezed it and then they heard Professor Dumbledore’s voice ring out over the hall.

“Silence!”

Everyone looked up, alert. Dumbledore was on his feet. He was as close to anger as Ginny had ever seen him. She crept back to the Gryffindor table, where the twins made a space for her in between them without a word.

“I’m afraid that I must announce that Professor Lupin is leaving us,” said Dumbledore. “He tendered his resignation to me this morning. I understand that you have been informed he suffers from the condition known as lycanthropy. I do not deny it. I was fully aware of his condition when I accepted him as a teacher at this school.”

Angry mutters began to buzz around the hall.

“I accepted him,” Dumbledore went on, “because I believe people have a right to live and work in peace, no matter where they come from or what illnesses they may _suffer_.” His emphasis on the word ‘suffer’ cut short the muttering. “Professor Lupin resigned in order to protect you all. Remember that, when you come to judge him.”

Ginny found herself fighting tears. The twins looked as if someone had punched them.

“But he’s so _cool_,” Fred said, bewildered.

“Snape knew the whole time,” George growled. “He knew the whole time and he only said it now because he didn’t want Lupin sticking around another year.”

Ginny couldn’t stand it. She didn’t want to hear people defending Lupin. She didn’t want to hear them demonising him. She wanted the truth. Without thinking, she jumped off the bench and ran out of the hall, up the stairs, ignoring anyone who called out her name.

She tore up the stairs to Lupin’s office and banged on the door. For a moment, she thought he wasn’t going to answer, then the latch clicked and he stood there, staring down at her in surprise.

“Ginny?”

“Is it true?” Ginny demanded.

Lupin’s shoulders dropped. “That I’m a werewolf? I’m sorry you had to hear it this way but –”

“That you’re _leaving_. That you resigned!”

Professor Lupin blinked. “Oh… Yes. Yes, it’s true.”

“You can’t!” The tears threatened to break free, but Ginny was past caring. “You can’t go!”

For a moment, Lupin said nothing. Then he stepped aside. “Come in and sit down.”

Ginny marched past him and sat down, in the same chair she’d chosen during their first meeting. Lupin’s desk was piled high with stacks of books. She couldn’t believe this was the last time they would do this. Lupin leaned against the desk, his kindness making her feel worse.

“Ginny, I can’t stay here any longer. It was foolish of me to take this job in my condition. I’m a danger to you, to all of you.”

“Only for three nights a month, that’s nothing!”

“That’s enough. More than enough.”

“You can’t let Snape win!”

“This isn’t about Professor Snape.” Lupin picked up a box from the floor and began to shrink the piles of books to fit inside. “Besides, he hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“What?!”

“Dumbledore said that as long as I was a teacher at this school, my secret would remain safe.” Lupin shrugged. “I’m no longer a teacher at this school, Professor Snape is under no obligation to keep my secret, especially if he thinks it would benefit his students to know the truth.”

“It doesn’t benefit them, it doesn’t benefit anyone except _him_!” Ginny shouted. “He wants your job and he’ll do anything to get it!”

“Ginny!” Professor Lupin turned and looked straight at her. “That’s enough.”

Ginny shut her eyes. “What if the nightmares come back?”

“Then you’ll be ready for them.” Lupin’s voice was warm and confident. “You can face anything, Ginny, I have no doubt of that.”

Ginny looked at him. He smiled, and she blushed and looked away. “You can’t go,” she said again. “You’re the best Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher we’ve ever had. Even the twins think so.”

“Ginny, would you do me a favour?”

She nodded, still unable to meet his gaze.

“Don’t be sad. This has been one of the best years of my life, teaching everyone, helping you to overcome your fears… I’ll keep the memory for a long time.”

Ginny looked at him. He was still packing. At that moment, she understood that nothing she could say or do would change this. He was going to leave and she would probably never see him again. It was like a needle in her heart.

“I don’t care what they say,” she said. “You’re not a monster.”

Lupin stopped packing. She saw his fingers tighten around the wand, so it trembled slightly. His voice was so low that she could barely hear it. “Thank you.”

She left then. She had never seen a grown man cry before and she was afraid that might happen if she stayed any longer.

She flew through the common room, up the stairs, and flung herself on her bed. Esmé jumped, Rowena blinked, and Catharine shrieked and yanked a bed curtain in front of her body.  
  
“Bloody hell, Ginny, a bit of warning next time, eh?”  
  
Ginny couldn’t answer, her throat was too tight.  
  
“Ginny? What’s wrong?” Rowena asked. “Has something happened to Harry?”  
  
“Are you feeling sick?” Esmé demanded. “Because if you are, you should go and see Madam Pomfrey, you might still be suffering from concussion –”  
  
Ginny flipped over onto her back, staring at the roof of her bed with hot eyes. “Professor Lupin’s leaving.”  
  
There was a clatter as Catharine dropped her hairbrush. “WHAT?”  
  
“But he’s the first decent Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher we’ve had!” Rowena said, her voice rising and sharpening. “Ginny, are you sure, it might just be a rumour –!”  
  
“Dumbledore announced it at breakfast.” Ginny couldn’t look at any of them, she couldn’t even raise her voice, she was torn between punching something and bursting into tears. She heard Rowena’s bed creak as she dropped onto it.  
  
“Why?” Esmé demanded. “He’s been a big hit with everyone – well, except Snape – why would he leave?”  
  
“Because he’s a werewolf.”  
  
There was a stunned silence. Ginny felt her bed sag on one side and Esmé’s face appeared in her vision, pale and wide-eyed. “Are you serious?”  
  
Ginny nodded. “Snape told the Slytherins at breakfast.”  
  
Catharine swore so badly that Rowena gasped. “You can’t say that!”  
  
“Oh sod off, Rowley.”

Ginny sat up, hugging her knees to her chest. “Professor Lupin said that all the staff promised Dumbledore that as long as he was a teacher, they wouldn’t tell any of us about his illness. He resigned first thing this morning, so technically he’s not a teacher any more.”  
  
Catharine’s head popped out of the neck of her jumper, mouth open in shock. “What? That makes it _even worse_!” She started brushing her hair again, her strokes vicious and sharp. “Lupin’s leaving – that’s what Snape’s always wanted – there was no _need_ to tell any of us that he’s a werewolf!” She put the brush down and pulled her hair back. “I mean, I know Snape’s a vindictive wanker, but this is a new low!”  
  
“I can’t believe it,” Rowena said, sounding angry for the first time. “Professor Lupin was so nice! We made him a card when he was sick, and now it turns out he was a monster!”  
  
Ginny was on her feet in a blink. “Professor Lupin is _not_ a monster!” She wondered why Esmé had grabbed her arm, then realised she was holding up her wand. She took a deep breath, trying to control herself. She didn’t want a repeat of what had happened with Catharine, hexing Rowena wouldn’t help her understand. “You just said that he’s the best Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher we’ve ever had – and my brothers said that he’s the best teacher THEY’VE ever had, which means he’s the best Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher in a very long time. That doesn’t change just because he’s a werewolf.” She struggled to control the bitter words crowding her throat. “I’ve seen monsters. Professor Lupin isn’t one of them.”  
  
“He lied to us!” Rowena objected.  
  
“How exactly did he lie to us?” Catharine demanded.  
  
“He pretended to be normal!”  
  
“Oh, I wonder why?” Catharine’s tone dripped with sarcasm. “It’s not like people have massive prejudices against werewolves or anything, right? God, listen to you! No wonder Dumbledore made everyone promise to keep it a secret! According to you, the fact he’s a werewolf means he isn’t even human, let alone a great teacher!”  
  
Rowena went red. “But –!”  
  
“Don’t you see that this is what Snape wants?” Esmé asked, her voice so calm that she sounded like an adult. “He wants you to end up hating and blaming Professor Lupin. He wants to make sure everyone sees Professor Lupin as an animal, not a person.” She suddenly shivered. “That’s why he made us learn about magical creatures. He wanted someone to guess Lupin was a werewolf, that way the secret would be out but he could say he hadn’t told anyone.”  
  
They were all silent as they absorbed this fact. Rowena sat down, looking lost. “I don’t understand. He was so nice…”  
  
“He’s still nice,” Ginny said, sitting back down on the bed. “The only difference is he won’t be teaching here anymore, in fact he’ll probably never teach again because all the Slytherins will tell their parents about him.”  
  
Catharine made a noise of disgust. “So the best teacher we’ve ever had leaves because he’s got a chronic incurable illness – but the teacher who bullies someone just because they’re a Gryffindor gets to stay?” She pushed on her shoes and marched towards the door. “That is crap.”

“Maybe we’ll get another good teacher next year,” Rowena called after her.

“I doubt it,” muttered Esmé. “Last year, we had Lockhart; this year, we had a werewolf. And before you jump down my throat, Ginny, yes, he turned out to be amazing, but nobody else would have even bothered giving him a chance. We’re already scraping the bottle of the barrel.” She got up and stomped over to her trunk as Catharine slammed the door. “Just pray that he knows what he’s talking about.”

* * *

The platform of 9¾ was full of people. Ginny was surprised to see Harry’s uncle standing there, looking for all the world like a malicious turnip, but then she was distracted by the tiny owl fluttering around Ron’s head.

“Ron! Where did you get that?” She held out a finger and the owl swooped down and perched on her hand, hooting at the top of its voice and causing all the dogs on the platform to go crazy.

“I’ll call about the World Cup!” Ron yelled after Harry. “Oh, the owl?” He looked evasive. “I found him. What’d you think? Good replacement for Scabbers, eh?”

Ginny stared at him for a moment. The hairs rose on the back of her neck. _Anybody’s better than Scabbers, Ron. Anybody._

“Ginny?” Ron frowned, looking worried. “You look a bit peaky, you feeling okay?”

Ginny shook herself. “It’s the summer holidays, Ron, of _course_ I’m okay! So, what are you going to call him?”

“Dunno, hadn’t thought about it.”

“Can _I_ name him?”

“No!”

“Don’t fight, you two,” said Mum, putting an arm around Ginny’s shoulders. “What’s the harm of letting her name him, Ron?”

“I am _not_ having an owl called Abigail or Penelope or Diana or –!”

“I wouldn’t call him that, he’s a boy!” Ginny said, rolling her eyes. “He needs a fluffy name… a cute name…”

Ron groaned. “Oh God…”

The twins began to tease him about having an owl with a ‘girly’ name. Ginny stroked the owl’s chest and wondered if she’d ever tell anyone the truth about what had happened this year. Nobody knew all of it, not Professor Lupin, not even Esmé.

“Mum,” she said, “could I have a diary for my birthday?”

**Author's Note:**

> This story is finally finished and ready for posting. I started it in between the publication of Order of the Phoenix and Half-Blood Prince, which tells you how long I've been working on it. The chapters start small and get longer as the characters and storyline develop. I'm not sure if I achieved everything I set out to do but I'm still proud of this story.


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